Say My Name
by EmilyBeckett
Summary: Begins during episode "The Thirteenth Step." First chapters are centered around "Lauren" and "Valhalla," leading into present day. Follows Emily and Derek as they work through the difficulties surrounding Ian Doyle and... some other stuff. ;  WIP.
1. Chapter 1 Comfort

**Disclaimer** : Much as it pains me, I do not own the characters or the rights to the characters in this story; they are the property of CBS and affiliates. No infringement is intended. I do not, in any way, profit from this story. Any original characters are mine.

**Rating**: M for sexual content and adult language.

**Spoilers**: Many and plentiful, particularly for season six, and most particularly for episodes "Lauren" and "Valhalla."

**Say My Name**

**Chapter One**

**_"Oh the comfort, the inexpressible comfort, of feeling safe with a person: having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words..." _-Dinah Maria Mulock**

_Ian Doyle, meet Lauren Reynolds._

Emily gripped the steering wheel of her SUV, pressing her foot a little harder to the gas pedal as the words of the beginning of another life raced through her head. She had to make the words stop, if only for a few moments. And she knew only one thing that would bring temporary relief from the name that haunted her days and owned her nights.

_What is it you do, Lauren?_

The needle on her speedometer zoomed up past eighty, Emily's boot smashing into the floorboad. The only coherent thought in her mind was how desperately she needed to obliterate all the other thoughts threatening at the edge of her sanity.

_Get in the car, Lauren; the second one_.

A strangled cry tore from Emily's throat, her knuckles now popping white against the steering wheel, her vehicle roaring down the dark, abandoned street. That awful, dreaded name pulsated through her mind, taunting and angry: _Lauren Reynolds, Lauren Reynolds, Lauren Reynolds_...

Then, all at once and just in time, Emily caught sight of her destination. Her body began to relax, her hands instinctively loosening their death grip. She felt the Rover begin to slow in anticipation of the stop she would soon make.

She couldn't with certainty say how she parked, or if she pulled her keys from the ignition. She was not sure if she locked her doors, nor could she remember the steps to the door of the house she approached. None of it mattered, except...

"Emily." The door was open before she even knocked, and standing in the doorway was her only hope of, however briefly, reclaiming herself.

Emily felt her face relax, into what was almost a smile. A real smile, not the kind you plaster on at work so that people won't ask questions. She took a step forward, and immediately felt herself being drawn into the familiar warmth of a friend and lover's embrace. Opening her arms, she returned the hug, gripping fiercely onto the only tangible evidence she had of any good in the world.

And she breathed his name. "Derek."

This was not the first time Emily had paid a late night visit to her work partner's home; although to be fair, Derek Morgan had paid at least as many visits to her house as she had to his. Not that it was a regular thing - usually, a visit this late meant that something was not right with one or both members of the duo.

Such as the time that Derek had been accused of and arrested for murder, and confronted his childhood abuser - in the same week. Or when Emily's close friend had died, forcing her to face painful memories from her adolescent years. Every year on the anniversary of the death of Derek's father. For two weeks straight after Emily had been held captive, tortured and beaten on Benjamin Cyrus' compound.

It was an arrangement that worked. There were no rules, other than the unwritten one. Neither one asked, "What's wrong?" There were no questions, no attempts to right the wrongs. There was only the solace of one another's arms, the comfort of knowing that there was a safe place to go, where pleasure was certain and fear did not exist.

And now, in this moment, Emily had never in her life been more overwhelmingly grateful for anything or anyone.

Tilting her head up, Emily's lips caught Derek's in a long, tender kiss. Reaching up, she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him as close to her as possible. She felt her breath catch in her throat as his tongue brushed her lower lip, just as he crushed her to him, her sensitive breasts pressing into the solid strength of his chest.

Derek cradled Emily's face in his hands, his thumb gently smoothing her cheek as he deepened the kiss. Moaning, Emily pushed harder into him, reaching between them to grasp his manhood through the thin fabric of his sweat pants. She felt him grow impossibly hard against her hand.

And then she felt him pull back. Not physically, but she could always tell when he was trying to pull in the reigns, trying to regain some control. Sighing with frustration into his mouth, Emily shoved her hand past the waistband of his pants and began to stroke Derek's already straining cock with her palm, using fingers and thumb to add pressure.

A strangled, unintelligable noise escaped Derek's lips just before he grasped Emily's wrist hard with one hand. "Princess, you gotta stop," he whispered desperately against her neck, "Or this is not gonna be any fun for you at all."

Emily's entire body was throbbing with need, her nerve endings all set on fire. Her sex was literally soaked with desire, and she knew it had to be now. She ripped open her shirt, exposing creamy satin and lace clad breasts, heaving with each gasping breath she drew. And yet in the back of her mind... _Lauren, is it_? "Derek, I need you. Now. Please." Her hands were already on the fly of her jeans, fumbling with the buttons there.

Derek swallowed hard, reaching behind Emily to unsnap her bra. Pulling her close again, he murmered against her ear, "Are you sure, baby? You don't want to slow down and take our time here?"

The erotic mix of sensations - Derek's hot breath in her ear, his deft fingers making quick work of her bra, and the skin of his deliciously sculpted torso pressed against her flat stomach were driving her crazy, along with that same mocking voice in her head: _Hello, Lauren_. She had to eradicate that voice, drive it from her mind. "No, Derek. No, please, please, God please, fuck... fuck me..."

And with that, her bra was on the floor, replaced by Derek's hands on each of her breasts, his thumbs drawing circles on her super sensitive nipples. Emily cried out at the sensation, grinding her pelvis against Derek's in a vain attempt at some release.

Growling low in her throat, Emily reached down with both hands and swiftly yanked Derek's pants down past his hips until they fell to the ground at his feet. She heard a groan escape him as he realized what she'd done, and he temporarily abandoned his attention to her breasts to help her slide her jeans down her own hips, along with her soaked lace panties. She quickly stepped out of them and kicked them aside. Reaching out once more, she took hold again of Derek's impressive manhood, guiding him to where she needed him most.

Derek was panting now, but doing his best to keep some control, and he managed to gain enough to utter one word, a question meant as a sign of respect and endearment. "Bed?" He tenderly brushed Emily's bangs away from her forehead, and gave her a sweet, chaste kiss on her lips.

Emily felt tears threaten the backs of her eyes, and she smiled up at her partner. It was such a small gesture, yet to her it meant everything.

Still, she shook her head, and gripping Derek's shoulder's with both hands, she whispered, "No. Take me here." _Remind me of who I am._

Derek swallowed hard and nodded, then used one arm to swiftly lift Emily up against the wall and hold her there, his other hand resting on her hip. "Are you ready?" He asked, looking into her eyes. And Emily knew that if she said no, he would get dressed and fall asleep with her in his arms, without a second thought.

She knew this, the way she knew that two plus two equals four, the way she knew that oxygen was needed for life. Derek was her partner, her friend. She knew that she could trust him with every fiber of her being, every piece of her soul. And she knew that she could trust him to stop, if that was what she needed. If she wasn't ready.

But she was ready. So very ready.

There was just one more thing.

"Derek... say my name."

**Reviews please! :) Shall I continue?**


	2. Chapter 2 Power

**Disclaimer** : It still pains me, and yet I still do not own the characters or the rights to the characters in this story; they are still the property of CBS and affiliates. As usual, no infringement is intended. Sadly, I still do not profit from this story.

**Rating**: M for sexual content and adult language.

**Spoilers**: Abundant for season six, focus on "Lauren" and "Valhalla."

**Chapter Two**

_**"Words have meaning, but names have unspeakable power."** _-Author Unknown

"Derek... _say my name_."

To his credit, Derek did not look unnerved or even surprised at Emily's request. Granted, the request in and of itself was perhaps not terribly odd. It was the desperation enveloping the three words that made it startling. "_Say my name_." It was a frantic plea, a strangled and pained demand.

Keeping in mind that he had made his fair share of unusual requests during these carnal comfort sessions, and happy to do whatever it took to make this encounter as amazing as possible for the beautiful woman in his arms, Derek dipped his head so that his lips were mere centimeters from Emily's ear and breathed lustily, the three syllables she needed to hear most: "Emily."

Emily groaned desperately. Derek's breath was so hot and sensual against her ear, her name pouring from his lips like a prayer. Unable to stop herself, she hooked both legs around Derek and used that leverage to pull him closer, until the head of his straining erection was teasing her impossibly wet entrance.

"Derek, please. Please. Fuck me, say my name, please, please..." Normally, Emily would have hated the pleading tone she heard in her own words. She was not, under any circumstances, a woman who begged for anything.

But then, she was also intelligent and therefore understood that there are exceptions to every rule.

Derek lowered his mouth to Emily's once again, capturing her lips in a hungry, wet kiss. Their tongues dueling for dominance, Emily moaned heavily as both her hands moved in tandem across Derek's broad shoulders and down his back. God, he tasted so good. He felt even better. Now if only he would...

"Oh, _God_!" Emily half gasped, half moaned the two words as she felt Derek plunge two fingers deep into her tight, wet entrance. It was not his cock, as she had asked, but for now all she could do was try to breathe as he slowly yet expertly pumped index and middle fingers in her slick walls.

When she felt his thumb suddenly begin stroking her clit, all coherent thought fled, and she keened loudly, gripping Derek's impossibly sculptured biceps. His fingers were like magic: touching, teasing, stroking, gliding. In one brief, pleasure hazed flash, coherence prevailed, as it occurred to Emily that Derek was managing to hold her steady against the wall with one arm, while finger fucking her to heaven and keeping his own desire at bay.

That thought, along with Derek's insistent ministrations on her cunt and clit, sent her over the edge. Just as her inner walls began to tighten, the height of her orgasm flooding hotly through her abdomen and temporarily blinding her, she heard Derek's voice through her moans and screams of pleasure. "_Emily... Emily... Emily_... _Emily_."

**Thanks for the reviews! Keep them coming, please? :)**


	3. Chapter 3 Pleasure

**Disclaimer: **Again, I own nothing but the idea. Bummer.

**Rating: **M for sexual content and adult language.

**Spoilers**: Probably not much of any in this particular chapter.

**Chapter Three**

_**"Rich the treasure, Sweet the pleasure, Sweet is pleasure after pain." -**_**John Dryden**

Slowly, Derek's face began to come back into focus as Emily felt her thighs relax, quivering with the force of the climax she had just achieved with Derek's skilled assistance. Her flushed breasts heaving more deeply than before, she stared into Derek's dark eyes, taking in the smoldering mixture of lust and affection she saw burning there. Slowly, he withdrew his fingers from her still spasming walls, and she groaned in protest.

One side of Derek's mouth quirked in a smile, and he kissed her gently. "Emily," he murmered softly. "You are so beautiful. You know that, right?"

Emily once again fought back the tears pressing against the back of her eyes, and gently squeezed her thighs together, drawing Derek even more flush against her body. "Derek," she replied, struggling to keep a grin from emerging, "Please don't drop me."

Derek laughed then, a deep, throaty chuckle. God, but Emily loved that sound. She allowed a real smile to surface, as she admired the crinkles around Derek's eyes as they twinkled mischeviously. He squeezed her hip playfully, dropping another kiss on her still smiling mouth. "Never, Princess."

Suddenly, Derek drew back slightly without losing his grip on Emily's hips, and she adjusted her grip on his shoulders to compensate for the movement. Looking into Derek's face, she saw focus and intent, and her cunt clenched involuntarily. "Derek," the word was half whisper, half moan. "Please fuck me."

But Derek shook his head and pulled her away from the wall and into his arms. Surprised, Emily looked questioningly at the gorgeous man holding her. In lieu of answering her unspoken question, Derek simply walked toward the area that Emily knew from past experience was his bedroom, and walked in.

"You know," Emily teased gently. "I can walk."

Derek quirked an eyebrow at her, right before gently lying her on his king size bed with the dark silk sheets. "Hush, woman," he commanded, his voice dangerously low.

Emily nodded slightly, her face relaxing. Reaching up towards Derek, she again took hold of his large, swollen erection and used her hand to pump once, then twice. Before she could continue, he grabbed her wrist once more. "No," he repeated. "Tonight is about Emily, remember? Remember, Emily?"

Emily nodded wordlessly, concentrating on her name as it fell effortlessly from Derek's lips. Taking a moment to flicker a glance to Derek's face, still hovering above her, she whispered, "I told you we didn't have to use the bed..."

"I know," he replied plainly. "But I need some room to do what I am about to."

Before Emily could question or even react, Derek's face had disappeared and she felt his infinitely talented mouth closing around one of her tight nipples. She cried out in surprise and pleasure, her back arching automatically. Looking down, she could see Derek's tongue flicking around her almost painfully hardened nipple, eliciting delicious sparks of pleasure. She groaned loudly as she saw, and felt, Derek begin to roll her other nipple around between his fingers.

His mouth suddenly left her breast, and before she could protest, Derek made contact with her neck. Sucking gently on the soft flesh just below her ear, he continued to tease one breast with his fingers. Emily was moaning aloud now, unable to keep the sounds inside as Derek's mouth and hands worked her mercilessly.

Emily whimpered low in her throat, feeling Derek's mouth leave her neck and move down her shoulder. He glanced over her breasts with his tongue, stopping only briefly to lightly flick one nipple again. He continued the torturous path down her body, leaving hot, open mouthed kisses along her rib cage.

"God, Derek, oh fuck... God, _fuuuuck_!" Emily was no longer whispering. Her voice was loud, insistent, uncontrolled. Derek's face was level with her toned stomach now, and he was placing gentle kisses there while appreciatively murmering her name. "Emily. God, Emily..."

Just as Emily began to relax, she felt Derek's mouth move dangerously low, his tongue swirling over one hipbone as his hand caressed the other. Emily's hips bucked in response, another whimper escaping her lips. She felt him smile against her skin, right before he moved yet lower, gently licking her inner thighs.

Emily continued to moan and keen wordlessly, unable to articulate what she needed. Fortunately, there were two things in this world that Derek Morgan knew very well. One was how to profile the hell out of a serial killer. The other was how to turn a woman's body into his own private place of worship.

Just as Emily was sure her heart would explode, her inhaled breaths coming in gasping spurts and her exhales leaving her body in uncontrolled moans and whimpers, Derek moved to where she truly needed him.

"_Aahhhh_!" Emily could not contain the scream as she felt Derek's expert tongue delving into her aching, wet sex. Sliding his arms underneath her thighs to gain better access, his face buried between her legs, he began licking hard and slow through her soaked folds. She felt, rather than heard him moan appreciatively at the taste of her arousal.

"Oh God, Derek, fuck baby, fucking goddamn _fuuuuuck_... yeah like that, _God yes_, please, please..." Emily's words were pouring from her like a chant, punctuated by desperate moans and cries of pleasure.

In this moment, nothing existed. No ghosts from the past, no questions of the future. There was only this. Pure, raw pleasure shared with a trusted friend.

Two fingers entered her tight channel, gently probing for her special spot as Derek moved his attention a bit higher, seeking out her straining, aching clit. Flattening his tongue out over the engorged nub, he used his tongue to draw hard, fast circles over it.

Emily was so close, she could feel the orgasm building. The sheets on Derek's bed were knotted in her fists, and her back arched off of the bed as she continued to vocalize her approval of Derek's actions.

Derek's fingers stroked hard and fast, coaxing her g-spot to release as his tongue demanded the same of her clit. All at once, her climax erupted through her, white hot pleasure coursing through her entire body, pooling in her abdomen and exploding in her pussy. Emily's eyes slammed shut as she screamed Derek's name, her thighs clenching around Derek's head as her inner walls mimicked the movement around his fingers.

Derek continued licking, softer now, lapping up Emily's juices as he slowly withdrew his fingers from her snug channel once again.

Slowly, Emily floated back down to earth, and when her eyes opened, Derek's face was inches from hers, a content smile on his handsome face. "Hey, beautiful. Remember me?" Emily smiled shakily, taking a deep breath of much needed oxygen. "Mmmhmmm," she replied. Derek chuckled and kissed her deeply, allowing her to taste her own arousal. Emily moaned softly into his mouth and wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders.

"Hey, Derek?" Emily pulled back and fluttered her eyes open to look into his. He stroked her face gently, using his thumb to trace her jawline. "Yes, Emily?"

"You are going to put that hard, hot cock to use sometime tonight, right?"

Derek hardened even more painfully at the sultry tone and the crass choice of words.

"Mmmm," he mumbled. "I think I have to. It would be a damn shame to waste it, now wouldn't it?"

Emily laughed softly, running her palms over Derek's chiseled chest and over his sensitive nipples. She smiled sensually at the reactions she was obviously eliciting from him, and winked up at him.

"You read my mind, Derek Morgan."

**Don't worry, this is not the end! I am sorry to keep you all hanging - I am super busy at work but wanted to get a bit more up for you guys. Thank you again for the reviews, and please keep them coming. Suggestions/feedback is immensely appreciated. :)**


	4. Chapter 4 Pain

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, don't make any money from writing about 'em.**

**Rating: M for sexual content and adult language and themes.**

**Spoilers: Just to be on the safe side, I say yes. **

**Chapter 4**

_**"It is always by way of pain that one arrives at pleasure. Indeed, pleasure and pain succeed one another." **_**-Marquis De Sade**

"You read my mind, Derek Morgan."

Emily smiled slowly, watching as Derek became visibly more aroused. He leaned down for another kiss, reaching around to grasp the back of her neck with one hand, the other tangled in her long raven hair. Pulling her up into a sitting position, he deepened the kiss even more, using his tongue to slowly and gently explore her mouth. Emily had a beautiful view of Derek's huge, straining erection as he was knelt between her splayed legs, and her sex clenched once again, desperate for him to push it inside her.

Emily moaned quietly, relishing in the sensations as Derek's hands moved from her head, down her sides and stopping to rest on her hips.

For a few moments, Emily allowed herself to enjoy the simplicity of their position. It was a remarkably erotic thing, being face to face and skin on skin with someone so beautiful and selfless. If Derek was content to plunder her mouth with his mindblowing kisses while caressing her body from breast to thigh, she was not about to complain.

Then again, she also would not have dreamed of complaing when Derek suddenly stopped his hands to rest on her thighs and gently tugged them over his, leaving her wide open to his throbbing cock. A sharp gasp escaped her as she felt the head brush against her sensitive pussy. Groaning, Derek reached behind her to grasp her round ass, and stopped for only a moment to whisper desperately into her ear, hot and heavy, "Emily... Emily... Princess, are you ready?"

Emily hummed affirmatively, gasping against Derek's neck as she struggled to form the words. "Derek, God, I've been ready since I saw you at work this morning."

Derek's hands tightened on her buttocks, a primal groan escaping his lips just before he thrust his pelvis forward, while simultaneously using his grip on Emily's perfectly rounded ass to bring her cunt into contact with his cock.

"Ohhhhh, _God_!" Emily's exclamation was somewhere between a moan and a scream as she felt Derek's vast manhood slam into her swollen entrance. Her fingers instinctively dug into Derek's shoulders as she bit down hard on her lower lip and tried to level her breathing. Derek paused, his thighs trembling with the willpower it took to do so. "Emily, you good?" She could tell he was speaking through painfully gritted teeth, and she nodded quickly, reassuring him. She desperately did not want to make this unpleasant for him, but it had been several months since she had been penetrated, and she did need time to adjust to his size.

"Go slow," she whispered. "Please."

"Of course, Emily," Derek murmered. He thrust again, more gently. She cried out again, softly this time. Derek stared into her face, admiring the canvass of pleasured pain there. His hands moved up her back to her shoulders, and he began rocking his hips steadily, stroking his engorged cock in Emily's hot, wet walls. She was so tight, her soft folds clinging to his shaft as he pumped in and out, relishing the whimpers and sighs of pleasure he was coaxing from her beautiful mouth.

Resting his forehead against Emily's, Derek continued to stroke, the limited space between them making the thrusts torturously slow and shallow, yet allowing him to push so deeply inside of her that the head of his cock was bumping against her cervix. Kissing her again, he marveled in the soft heat of her mouth. She was crying out into his mouth now, her thighs trembling around him as she struggled to keep control, to keep her orgasm at bay. She so desperately wanted this to last.

"Emily," Derek whispered, "I'm gonna lay you down, okay, beautiful?"

Emily nodded wordlessly, her hands still gripping fiercely onto Derek's shoulders. Derek slowly, gently leaned her back onto the bed, his cock never pulling out of her body. Once she was on her back, her feet resting on the bed on either side of Derek's knees, he began thrusting again, harder now. He closely watched her face for any signs of pain or discomfort, and was relieved when he saw none.

"Oh, God Derek, _yes_." Emily's eyes were squeezed tightly shut, her lower lip again caught between her teeth as she revelled in the hard heat of Derek's cock stroking hard and fast, in and out of her core. She could feel herself nearing the edge, and still she concentrated on delaying her climax, knowing that when it hit, Derek would surely follow closely behind and bring an end to their lovemaking.

"Emily," Derek groaned, his arms burning as he held himself steady above her, his face mere inches from hers. Forcing her eyes open, she found herself staring into his face, and all at once an overwhelming rush of emotions hit her. The events that had brought her here tonight, along with all of Derek's skilled and thoughtful actions throughout the evening, the pleasure he was currently sending coursing through her body - it was all too much for Emily's overheated body and exhausted mind.

Another cry escaped her lips. This time, the cry was a strangled sob, a swirl of despair and gratitude, a mishmash of physical pleasure and unspeakable pain.

The sound and it's implications were not lost on Derek, and he leaned down to press his forehead into Emily's, speaking fiercely to her as he saw a tear slide down her face. "Emily Prentiss, you are fucking beautiful, you are goddamn perfect and anything you need, I am here. You better fucking know that."

Emily nodded against the tears that were now coursing down her cheeks, and choked out two words around her sobs, "Don't stop."

He didn't.

Emily felt her climax mounting again, and this time she was quite certain there was no stopping it. She decided, distantly, that she did not even want to try. She wanted to come, and she wanted to take Derek over the edge with her. The pain that was building in her heart needed to be obliterated, and she was hoping, so hoping that this final climax would be the key to that obliteration.

The spark began deep in her belly, and spread through her like a crescendo. There were no screams of ecstasy, simply soft moans accentuated by quiet sobs. Her arms left Derek's shoulders, falling onto the bed at her sides. Derek felt her walls clench tightly around his cock, and he gritted his teeth, letting go and allowing his climax to finally explode into her. She cried out once, feeling his white hot seed spilling into her and intensifying her orgasm, blinding her and washing away her pain. Derek's eyes left Emily's face for a brief moment, and he caught a glimpse of her left hand, palm up on the bed.

Her fingers were shaking uncontrollably.

Derek felt his chest tighten with pain at the sight, and as he rode out both of their orgasms, he grabbed Emily's hand and squeezed it tightly.

When their eyes opened again, Derek was on his back, still holding Emily's hand tightly in his. She was resting on her side, her naked body flush against his. Looking down, Derek took in Emily's tear streaked face and kiss swollen lips. Her jet black hair fell wildly around her shoulders, a stark contrast to her milky white skin.

God, she was a beautiful mess.

Derek hated to break the comfortable silence, but he had to know.

"You heard what I said, right, Princess?"

Emily looked up at him, her long dark lashes sweeping up as her deep brown eyes focused on his face. "I did," she said softly. "Thank you, Derek." Her eyes left his face for a moment, then returned as she added, "For everything."

**Guys, I am SO SORRY it has taken me so horribly long to add this chapter. I do hope you enjoyed it, and please tell me in the reviews if I should continue or leave it at this. Thank you again so much for all your reviews and compliments thus far. Also, in response to a question a few of you have asked: I do take requests. No promises, but I will do my best to write any story (any shipping) that is requested.**


	5. Chapter 5 Loss

**Disclaimer: **I do not own them, and they do not pay me. If only.

**Spoilers:** Yes, many.

**Rating:** M for disturbing themes and adult language.

**Chapter Five**

**_"Just as the body goes into shock after a physical trauma, so does the human psyche go into shock after the impact of a major loss."_ -Anne Grant**

It had been eight weeks since he held her in his arms. Eight weeks since she had said more than two words to him.

Derek Morgan raced into the warehouse, assault rifle drawn and periodically firing at the terrorists standing between him and his partner. Her name was pulsating through his head, racing through his veins: _Emily, Emily, Emily, Emily, Emily._

And then he saw her.

Lying on the floor - her face bloodied and battered, lips parted slightly, dark eyes open and unfocused. A wooden spike was protruding from her abdomen. _Goddamn it, Emily._

"I've got her!" The words tore from his lips as he flew across the room, dropping down onto his knees by her side. He grabbed her hand, squeezing tightly.

"Prentiss... hey, it's me. I'm right here. You're gonna be all right. Stay with me, baby. Come on, stay with me!"

Her eyes flickered briefly, and her lips moved slightly, forming the three words that twisted Derek's stomach and almost stopped his heart. They were a whisper, light as a feather yet heavy as lead.

"_Let me go_..."

"No! No, I am not letting you go!"

Morgan jerked his head frantically toward the entrance to the warehouse, screaming at anyone who might hear, "_HELP ME!_"

Not pausing for a response, Morgan turned back to Emily, and spoke fiercely. "Listen to me. I know why you did all of this. I know what you did for Declan." Emily's eyes shifted again, to Morgan's face. He detected a hint of something, a spark of recognition maybe, or a glimmer of surprise. He kept talking.

"I am so proud of you. Do you understand that? I am proud of you, because you are my friend, and you are my partner."

Emily's eyes fluttered shut, as if to indicate that Derek had said all that she needed to hear. That she could die in peace now.

"_NO, EMILY!_ If you can hear me, just squeeze my hand." Morgan's heart leaped when he felt a faint movement in her fingers, a flutter of life. "Yes, yes! Just keep squeezing." Both his hands closed over Emily's, and she squeezed harder. She was trying.

Emily's eyes opened, slowly and painfully. Bright fluorescent lights assaulted her vision, and she immediately knew that she was in a hospital. It never occured to her that she might be dead, that perhaps this was a waiting place or a celestial residence.

There would be no lights in the afterlife. Not for her.

Emily shivered as the memories came flooding back. The pain of a bullet striking Kevlar and knocking the air out of her lungs; the agony of being branded with, of all things, a good luck symbol; the pain of the beating; the fear in the moment when she actually had died, suspended in cold darkness.

Then, Derek's face floated through her mind. "_Stay with me, baby... I am not letting you go...I am proud of you._.."

Emily tried to sit up, and all at once she was in more pain than she had been the entire time Doyle had been been handing her ass to her in the warehouse. Her vision swimming again, she laid back and tried to breathe.

"Agent Prentiss?" A gentle voice floated through. Emily glanced around, her eyes settling on a pretty middle aged woman in a white lab coat. "Doctor..." Emily tried to say, but no sound came out. The doctor held up a hand. "Don't try to speak," she soothed, approaching Emily's side. "You have been through an incredible ordeal. We are doing everything possible to keep you comfortable, but it is completely natural to have a level of pain."

A level of pain. Yeah, the way the Grand Canyon was a hole in the ground.

The doctor was still talking. "Emily, we did have to perform another procedure, along with the surgeries that saved your life. I am so sorry to tell you that we were unable to save your pregnancy. The blunt force trauma, along with..."

Emily stopped listening. Pregnancy. What the hell was the doctor talking about, _pregnancy_?

Swiveling her head towards the doctor, barely even noticing the pain the movement caused, Emily tried again to speak, forcing her throat to pitch sound: "I was... not... _pregnant_."

The words were unintelligible, a scratchy, pained hiss. While she couldn't hear what Emily said, the doctor recognized the lip movements, the look of disbelief and denial, and the pool of pain forming in her patient's eyes.

The doctor reached out and brushed her fingertips against Emily's shoulder. "You didn't know," she murmered. "I am so very sorry."

Emily simply stared.

It all came flooding back to her: the two missed periods that she had casually dismissed as a symptom of the extraordinary stress she was under; the waves of nausea she had chalked up to products of the stench that comes with dead friends and crippling guilt and fear; the fatigue and irritability that had seemed reasonable to attribute to sleepless, terror filled nights.

How could she not have known?

How could she have gone after Doyle so recklessly, without even considering the possibility that skipping two periods in the months after having sex might indicate a pregnancy? She was on birth control pills, but those was not foolproof, and she knew that. How could she not have -

_"I'm just really worried about you... are you pregs?"_

_Oh my God. _Even Penelope had known. Well, she had suspected, at least; and Emily had simply brushed the question off, never thought about it again after reassuring Penelope that she was not.

How could she not have at least checked?

How?

Staring up at the dull off-white ceiling tiles of the recovery room, Emily fought to keep the tears inside. She had cried enough in the past few months to last her a lifetime, plus a couple more.

Sliding a hand over her abdomen, she winced at the pain the small movement sent slicing through her entire body. Her head throbbed almost as intensely as her torso. Her hand resting on her belly, she felt stitches. A stinging in her breast reminded her, once again, of the primitive brand that was now burned there forever.

Her fingers fluttered slightly on her flat stomach, and she whispered, to no one in particular.

The words came through a throat so swollen she could not swallow and the desert that was currently her mouth, past painfully cracked lips.

Two words, scraping across the room, snapping like dry twigs in the still of the night.

"Forgive me."

**Author's notes: As always, reviews sustain me! Thanks so much for all the previous reviews, and by all means keep 'em comin'! Honestly, I am not AT ALL sure about this chapter, or taking the story in this direction. Feedback and suggestions, please! Thank you again to all my readers! :)**


	6. Chapter 6 Fear

**Disclaimer:** The BAU are not my property, unfortunately.

**Spoilers:** MANY AND PLENTIFUL, for seasons two through six.

**Rating:** M, to be safe.

**Chapter Six**

**_"Keep your fears to yourself but share your courage with others."_ -Robert Louis Stevenson **

It has been seven months since Emily Prentiss has laid eyes on Derek Morgan. In those seven months, she has had time to mourn the loss of the pregnancy they had created together, and to come to grips with the nightmare she had endured in the warehouse.

Emily Prentiss is not a cold person. She is by no means unfeeling, although to some it might appear that way. She is aware of this; she knows that she appears unaffected by events so shattering that most people would never recover from them.

It is a trait that is in part carefully honed, and partly something she possesses naturally. If you ask her, it is more a curse than a blessing, even if it does come in handy in a job like the one she has. Well, the one she used to have.

People notice her seeming indifference to carnage and devastation all too quickly. Emily recalls, vividly, the first time a member of the BAU team questioned her about it. It was more than six years ago, after Reid had been abducted by Tobias Hankel. JJ had been rattled to her core, and visibly so. Concerned, Emily had offered to take her out of the house to question a witness.

_JJ nodded, silently agreeing to Emily's invitation. Emily smiled slightly and turned to leave._

_"Emily?"_

_Emily stopped and turned back, looking questioningly at the beautiful yet disheveled blonde standing in front of her. "Yeah?" _

_"How come none of this gets to you?"_

_Emily's brow furrowed, genuinely confused. "What do you mean?"_

_JJ shook her head, her blue eyes looking disbelievingly at the brunette standing in front of her. "You came off a desk job. Now suddenly you're in the field, surrounded by mutilated bodies... and you don't even flinch."_

_Shit._

_Emily opened her mouth to respond, her mind racing to form an excuse tthat would explain away her stoic behavior, when she heard a voice behind her. "She's right, you haven't blinked." Turning her head toward the voice, Emily saw Hotch staring at her, waiting for a response._

_Pulling from something she knew to be at least partially true, Emily responded slowly. "I guess... maybe I compartmentalize better than most people."_

_Fortunately, Morgan called out then, and the matter was dropped. But as Emily followed Hotch and JJ to see what Morgan had discovered, one thought kept repeating itself in her mind._

_They know you're lying. _

Standing at the entrance of the federal building where she used to be an employee, she cannot help but reflect on that moment. She had been so afraid that they would know she was not being truthful about the reasons for her ability to remain calm in the face of horrific crimes. They hadn't. They had trusted her.

Now, six years later, they knew that she had lied to them, and they are bound to be pissed. Her heart is thudding against her breastbone in anticipation of reuniting with her fellow profilers. They are her friends, and the closest thing to a family that she can claim.

At least, they used to be.

Emily fears now that all trust has been broken, and she would not blame any one of them for turning a cold shoulder to her. She of all people knows the difficulty of trusting someone, and the near impossible feat of rebuilding trust once it has been broken. Something like that is difficult for anyone, but for the members of her team, all of whom have suffered tremendous losses throughout their lives, it might not even be an option.

Especially for Derek.

Emily's heart thuds harder, harder, harder, until it feels like a horse is kicking her ribcage.

A horse, or a baby.

Emily quickly pushes that thought out of her mind. She has already decided that telling Derek about the pregnancy would be selfish on her part. He does not need to know. It would only serve to further upset and traumatize him, and she does not need his comfort on this matter. She has made peace with what happened. She has written a letter to what would have been her child, apologizing for not knowing that he or she existed, for endangering the life she held within her.

In short, she has found closure.

She has forgiven herself. She _has_.

She can only hope that, given time, her team can do the same.

()()()()()()()()()()()(()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()())()()()()()()()()

Taking a deep breath, she lets it out slowly, and before she can change her mind, Emily walks into the room where her team is waiting.

The looks on their faces tear at her heart. She knows that she will be haunted for a long time by the stricken expressions she sees, the pain and disbelief flooding the faces of the people she loves the most. Penelope is whispering. _"Oh my God..." _Reid is standing perfectly still, staring at her as if she is a ghost, and any movement might scare her away. She cannot read Rossi's face, but he doesn't look as surprised. Well, that's Rossi - always calm under pressure.

Derek stares. He looks angry. He looks unconvinced. He looks hurt. He jerks his head around to level a glare at Hotch, who stares back grimly.

The next few moments pass in a blur. The team moves toward Emily. She hugs them, she apologizes sincerely, and she means it.

"Not a day went by that I didn't want to - " The words halt in her throat when she looks across the room and catches sight of Derek. He has not approached her. His face is a mask of pain and disbelief. She walks toward him, continuing. "Really. You didn't deserve that. I am... _so sorry_."

She places her arms around him slowly, struggling to stop herself from breathing in the smell of his cologne. His arms remain at his sides for a moment, and she fears briefly that he may not return the hug. She wouldn't blame him... how could she?

Still, her heart thrills inside her when she feels his hands brush her shoulders, however tentatively.

This is good.

This is a start.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()())()(()()()(()()()()()()()()()(()()()()()()()()(()()()()()()()

Funny thing about calling something a start: it puts the pressure on. Once you have started something, you have to continue it; and eventually, you have to end it.

It has been almost two months since the first time Emily saw Derek again for the first time since her death. They seem to be adjusting, moving into some sort of pattern that fits them once again. It is different from before, but how could it not be? Emily is just grateful that Derek is not angry with her anymore.

At least, he says he isn't. She has to believe him, or risk losing her mind.

The first time he assures her that he is, in fact, not angry... well, it takes every bit of emotional strength she possesses not to throw her arms around him and squeeze with all the physical strength in her body.

_"Hey, Morgan?" _

_Derek turned, his eyebrows raised questioningly._

_"What do I do about Reid?"_

_It's a fair question, and one that is eating her alive. She loves Spencer Reid like a brother, and she is somewhat convinced that he hates her. More than that, she is beginning to believe that he will always hate her. _

_Morgan looks straight into Emily's face, and answers honestly. "Emily, there's a lot about you being back that's unresolved."_

_Emily's eyes widen, her stomach plummeting to her feet. "I... are you pissed at me, too?"_

_Morgan's eyes soften, and he shakes his head almost imperceptibly. "Come on now," he replies. "How can I be? You're here." _

_Emily's stomach is suddenly back in it's rightful place, and a smile blooms on her face before she even realizes it is forming. "Thank you." Her voice is soft, sincere._

_"I know what you went through," she continues, quickly. "Grief counseling... you carried my coffin." Morgan rolls his eyes, "Yeah, I sure did," he agrees. "What was in that thing, anyway?" _

_They laugh. _

_It feels good. But Emily knows that this is far from over._

_That this is still just a start._

Turns out, she was absolutely right. Morgan lied to her, told her that she needed to be recertified in arrest procedure and takedown. That he was her trainer. He had lied, and she had believed him, because she trusted him. Somehow, she can't help but feel that he felt vindicated in a way by doing that, that maybe now she knows the pain of being deceived by someone she loves, even if it is on a much smaller scale than what he endured.

He needn't worry. Emily had been deceived many times in her life, by people she trusted to keep her safe. Still, she cannot hold his lie against him. He had been hurt. She remembers the conversation they had after she found out that he had lied.

_Morgan's tormented eyes when he told her, "I thought I'd lost you, and I blamed myself..." _

_The overwhelming guilt she felt when she responded. "I cannot imagine what you went through."_

_"It was seven months of hell." _

_"How can I make it up to you? I'll do anything."_

_She meant it._

So she had gone through the motions of being re-certified. She had brought him coffee every morning, as he requested. She had even eventually consented, once, to the neck rub he had jokingly asked for.

Hotch says she is overcompensating. That she is taking on too much of the team's struggles in order to gain back their trust. He worries that she is giving up parts of herself to make up for what she owes them.

If only he knew.

But now, these months later, she is exhausted. She had promised Hotch that she would talk to him when she was having what he referred to as a "bad day." She hadn't believed him when he had told her that she would have a day like this.

That's what happens when you get so caught up in righting a wrong, in doing whatever it takes to make something up to someone you have hurt in the most devastating way possible. In Emily's case, there were six people to right wrongs for, and so she was overextending. Ninety miles a second - constantly listening, helping, comforting, reassuring, doing everything in her power to prove to her friends that she was not hiding anything.

She lies to her therapist, because she cannot lie to anyone else. But she cannot talk to anyone else, either. All she can do is be a beacon of hope for them.

Now, sitting in the bedroom of the apartment that still has yet to feel like home, she begins to feel afraid. She has no one to comfort, no team member to reassure. All she can do is think, which she has not done since she returned from Paris.

Her mind flashes back again, this time to the conversation she had with the female unsub she had interviewed. The one who had abducted and almost killed her rapist.

_"You have no idea what it's like when the monster from your nightmares comes back for you!" _

_Emily couldn't help it. She looked down, swallowing against the bile that was suddenly rising in her throat._

_When she looks up, she knows that the woman knows. She rushes to take control of the interview. "I am here as a courtesy..."_

_"Wait a minute... something happened to you."_

_Emily continued, trying to ignore the knot in her stomach. "So, do you want to give me your statement or not?" _

_"Did you arrest him, like a good FBI agent? Or... did you kill him?"_

_Staring down at the table for a long moment, Emily struggles to regain composure. For some reason, when she looks up, she answers honestly. "I didn't pull the trigger."_

_"Still. Your monster is dead, and I have to live with mine. That's my statement."_

Emily had kept quiet then, but there was one thing she knew for absolute certain.

Just because your monster is dead, does not mean that you don't live with him.

She had talked to Hotch, per their deal. Because she had promised that she would, and because frankly, it helped. She told him what the woman had said, and she shared with him how it made her feel helpless, weak - like a victim.

But she did not tell him about the miscarriage. That was something she was taking to the grave.

Getting up from the bed, she begins to pace back and forth in front of her dresser. She chews her thumbnail before she realizes what she is doing, and then she quickly withdraws her hand and shoves it into the pocket of her sweatpants. She needs to stop thinking. She needs to relax.

She needs Derek.

But will he want her?

He knows that she has been intimate with a terrorist. That she has slept with a criminal.

He knows that she has screwed a murderer in exchange for an arrest.

Before she knows what she is doing, Emily's keys are in her hand and she is setting the burglar alarm by her front door. She is in her car, and she is driving in the most familiar, safe direction she knows. She is numb, because she forces herself to keep her mind blank and her eyes on the road. Not to think about the possibility that Derek will close the door in her face, or cringe when she touches him.

When her vehicle stops in front of Derek's house, she gets out and walks slowly to his front door. Her hands are shaking and her legs feel like they are made of Jello. Raising her hand, she forms a fist and knocks, three times.

The door opens.

Derek is standing in front of her, wearing one of his signature fitted tees and a pair of jeans. Suddenly, Emily is self-conscious. Looking down, she smooths her hand over the front of her cami, and her fingers still just below her navel. _Wherein lies her empty womb_.

Tears rush to the surface, and before she can stop them, they have spilled out and down her cheeks. Her head is still bent, her dark hair cloaking her face.

Derek reaches out, grabs her shoulders and pulls her to him. "Emily, baby, shhh." His voice is low, soothing, as he gently draws circles on the bare skin between her shoulder blades. Walking backwards, he moves them inside. Temporarily removing one arm from around her, he closes the door.

And then he holds her.

They stand like that for several minutes, Derek squeezing her body against his, murmering words of comfort and understanding as she sobs against his chest.

Finally, she looks up at him, her face a beautiful mask of anguish and regret.

"I'm sorry," she chokes out, before she bites her lip against the fresh torrent of tears that cascade down her face.

Derek grabs her shoulders again, but this time he does not pull her to him. "Look at me, Emily." It is not a request, it is an order. She complies.

"Emily," he begins, hesitantly. "What is this about?"

He looks afraid.

Emily shakes her head, the fear in his eyes renewing her resolve to keep the pregnancy to herself. "I'm just... I'm having a bad day." She swallows hard, using her hands to dry her face. "I should go." She turns to leave, reaching for the door knob. She never gets to it.

Derek's hands are on her waist, pulling her backwards till she is flush against his body. His arms snake around her, holding her against him, and he whispers against her neck. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Princess. I know what you are afraid of."

Emily's eyes close involuntarily as tears spring to her eyes once more, her head falling back to rest on Derek's shoulder. "It's okay," she murmers thickly. "I would understand. I'm used..."

Derek chuckles then, his breath tickling Emily's ear, and she opens her eyes as she cranes her neck to look at his face. She quirks an eyebrow inquisitively. "Something funny?"

"Well, Emily. If you are used because of one sexual partner - who yeah, happened to be a total prick - what does that make me? Now, I know you will find this shocking, but I am somewhat of a whore..."

Emily laughs at that, the sound bubbling up out of her belly and bouncing off the walls around her.

Wriggling out of Derek's grasp, Emily turns to face him. "Hmmm," she muses. "I don't seem to have any cash on me..."

Derek shakes his head, a playful smile tugging the corners of his mouth up. "Oh, shut up, woman," he replies. "For you, there is never any charge."


	7. Chapter 7 Shame

**Disclaimer:** Don't own them, don't get paid by them.

**Spoilers:** Yes.

**Rating:** M for adult language and sexual content.

**Chapter Seven**

_**"I drew it over my skin like a violins bow; no one would ever hear the song of my**** shame."** _-**Jodi Picoult**

"For you, there is never any charge."

They come together then, bodies and lips meeting in the wild frenzy that accompanies long-time lovers who have been separated by time and space. His hands are in her hair, as her hands struggle to release his shirt from the confines of his belted jeans. She is moaning into his mouth, standing on tiptoe in a desperate attempt to close the imaginary distance between them.

Emily pushes her hands up past Derek's shirt, her fingers splaying against his sculpted torso. His skin is so hot that she is sure her palms will blister.

Needing more contact, she fumbles with his shirt, struggling to push it up further, over his head. He assists, yanking the offending article over his head.

Suddenly, Emily's small lace top joins Derek's shirt on the floor.

She is completely exposed, the cool air in Derek's apartment hardening her nipples to deliciously stiff peaks. She is reaching for him again, ready to pull him against her and continue exploring his body again. Until something stops her. Until she sees Derek's face.

Something is wrong.

Derek is staring. His eyes, a ghastly fusion of shock and disdain, are trained on her breasts.

_Fucking hell_.

The four leaf clover that is branded on her breast, of course. How could she have forgotten about that? The physical pain associated with the mark is long gone. In it's place is a raised reminder of that pain, and of the entire hellish circumstance surrounding it. It is a crudely shaped welt, marring the otherwise smooth flawlessness of her breasts.

It is hideous.

Emily is backing up, one hand instinctively covering the brand while the other goes to shield her torso from Derek's line of vision. Her belly, which used to be flat and unmarred, is now a disaster area of red and purple tracks, a massacre of collectively sunken and raised welts and slashes. Emily never looks in that area. She closes her eyes in the shower. When she washes her body, she does so without thinking, and as quickly as possible. She wears a towel before she looks in the mirror. Which, in retrospect, might explain why she had forgotten about it until now. She purposefully avoided it, and for good reason.

If the small scar on her breast is hideous, the war zone that is now her stomach is downright grotesque.

How could she expect any man, even one as understanding as Derek Morgan, not to recoil in disgust at the sight of her disfigured body? Love may be unconditional, but attraction is not. Emily is not stupid enough to believe that a man would be able to look at the horrific mess that is now her body and not be repulsed, let alone be turned on.

How could she expect that of him, when she can't do it herself?

Tears stinging the backs of her eyes for what feels like the millionth time that night, Emily miserably drops her head, falling to her knees and grabbing for her shirt. Her hands are shaking as she grapples with the camisole, struggling to push it on over her arms.

Derek appears in front of her, and she looks at him. She knows that her face reflects the confusion she feels. He is knelt in front of her, and his hands are closing over hers.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Derek's heart feels as if it has been ripped out, thrown on the ground, beaten and stomped.

The woman standing in front of him is so breathtaking, so strong and beautiful that he cannot believe she is real sometimes. And now, as he stares in shock at the symbol that has clearly been burned onto her perfect breast, he feels pain building in his chest that he has not felt since the first weeks when he thought that she was dead.

The scar itself is not ugly. It looks, in fact, like a branding that someone might pay good money for at a professional tattoo shop. It is a four leaf clover, designed delicately and thoughtfully.

But Derek knows what it stands for. He knows when it was branded onto her. He knows, because he has seen that stupid fucking tattoo before, only in ink. He saw it on Ian Doyle's wrist, and on the wrists of every single one of Doyle's pathetic fucking goons.

The pain that Emily must have suffered while getting the brand, along with the fact that Doyle has managed to ensure that Emily cannot look at her own body without being reminded of what he put her through, makes Derek feel as if he will vomit. He is almost shaking with rage.

Suddenly, his vision refocuses as Emily's hand comes up to cover her breast. The look on her face is clear, as she attempts vainly to hide her brand, and also her torso. She is ashamed.

_Goddamn it, Derek, you asshole._

Derek's brow furrows in confusion, as his eyes fall to rest on Emily's abdomen. What is she hiding? Through her splayed fingers, he can make out some red welts, a bit of sunken skin.

She has scars. Of course she does; he had always known that she would. She was stabbed, and consequently had to be cut open so that surgery could be performed to save her life. Does she really believe that would bother him? Does she honestly think that a few marks would do anything to mar her immeasurable beauty?

As far as he is concerned, all Emily has are battle scars. The permanent visible reminders that one has fought with honor. Fought, and survived.

Emily is on her knees now, her eyes downcast and her hands trembling as she wrestles with her top, trying to pull it on.

She has misinterpreted his look of pain as disgust.

_Goddamn it, Derek, you fucking prick_.

Without thinking, Derek falls down on his knees beside Emily, taking her hands in his for the second time in so many months.

When she looks at him, he can see confusion replacing the shame in her eyes.

"Emily fucking Prentiss, listen to me. You are beautiful. Your body is beautiful. I could not want you more than I do right now, do you understand me? I am so sorry that I stared before. It just kills me to know what you suffered, that is _all_. You are sexy as hell, and your scars just add to your beauty. They remind me of what I already know - that you are the strongest person I know. I cannot wait to touch them... kiss them... appreciate them, as part of you. Do you hear me?"

Emily's dark eyes are wide, unblinking. Her shirt is knotted in her hands, her perfectly sloped breasts moving up and down gently with each shallow breath she takes. Derek holds his breath, hoping to God that she knows how serious he is, that he is not simply trying be nice, or make her feel better.

When she finally speaks, her voice is husky with emotion.

"Derek, what would you say," she breathes, "if I told you that I am in love with you?"


	8. Chapter 8 Love

**Disclaimer:** I do not own them.

**Spoilers:** Yes ma'am.

**Rating:** M for adult language and sexual content.

**Chapter Eight**

**_"Love makes your soul crawl out from its hiding place."_ -Zora Neale Hurston**

You know how sometimes, you say something, but you don't feel the words leave your throat?

The words enter your mind, but you do not plan on speaking them aloud. You have no intention of letting your feelings be heard. Then, suddenly, they slip out and hang in the air, suspended there on the fragile tightrope of hope and dread.

This was one of those moments.

Emily's heart thuds dully, blood roaring in her ears as she stares into Derek's eyes, watching him register what she has just confessed.

_My God... did I just tell Derek Morgan that I am in love with him?_

Emily does not have time to form a cognitive response to her own hypothetical question, before she is swept into Derek's arms, pulled tightly against him as he lavishes her mouth with greedy, openmouthed kisses.

"What would I say to that?" he breathes against her mouth. "I would say my God, woman, what took you so damn long?"

He kisses her again, ferociously, until her head is spinning and her vision is blurred. When his mouth leaves hers, she has no time to protest before he lavishes her neck with kisses, his tongue expertly finding that sweet spot just behind her ear that always makes her cry out.

"And then," he whispers against her neck, the words accentuated with more kisses, "I would say I am so in love with you that it hurts."

They are on their feet.

They are stumbling down the hall, all touches and caresses and sighs and pleas.

Jeans and sweatpants hit the floor, followed closely by panties and briefs.

Emily falls back onto the bed, and Derek is not far behind. Rolling over, Emily pushes on Derek's chiseled chest, forcing him onto his back. He looks up at her, questioningly, but she offers him no explanation until she hooks one leg over his hips, lifting herself up so that she is facing him. And then she is straddling him. Derek moans deeply as Emily's ample breasts hover mere centimeters above his face, her taut pink nipples teasing him with their proximity. Close enough for him to see every heavenly detail, yet not close enough for him to actually taste or touch.

Emily is touching him, everywhere. Her hair is trailing down his body as she leaves random, heated kisses along his shoulder and down his perfectly honed abs. Derek cannot contain the groans and grunts that are being emitted from him. Every nerve ending in his body is alive and screaming for more, as Emily continues to torture him with her mouth. He catches sight of her pink tongue, darting out between her sensual lips to flick at one of his nipples as she uses her hands to languidly stroke his hips, dangerously close to his throbbing cock.

"Oh _fucking_ God yes, _Emily! Ughhh..._," Derek's words come quickly, loudly as he feels the soft, wet heat of Emily's mouth close over his aching manhood. He desperately looks down, needing the full view of what he knows will be the most amazing sight he has ever laid eyes on.

He is not disappointed.

Emily's raven hair is pushed to one side, tumbling over her creamy white shoulder. Her dark rose lips are sealed around his cock, her cheeks hollowing as she sucks hard. Her tongue swirls around his shaft, hands teasing his balls gently before moving to his cock. Her head moves up and down, one hand mimicking the movement so that not an inch of Derek's manhood is ever left neglected.

Derek's eyes slam shut, his hips bucking up off the bed. It takes everything in his power not to thrust hard and fast into Emily's beautiful mouth, not to explode into the velvety heat of her throat.

For a few moments, Derek continues to groan and curse appreciatively, enjoying the expert skills of Emily's soft mouth and hands. Just as he feels he has no choice but to climax, he reaches down and grasps her silky hair in one hand. "Emily, stop," he chokes out, desperately, "Stop, baby."

Reluctantly, Emily pulls away from Derek's deliciously long, hard manhood. Crawling up over his body, she is once again above him. Their faces are level with one another, and she closes the short distance with a kiss. Her knees are on the bed on either side of him, her cunt hovering just above his erection. Reaching up, he grasps her hips. "I want you," he pants, staring in wonder at the alluring woman above him. Her mouth is open, her eyes glittering black with desire.

"Mmmm," she purrs, seductively. "Then maybe you should take me?"

Derek squeezes his eyes shut, his grip on her hips tightening almost painfully. Quickly, he plunges two fingers into her tight, warm depths, making sure of what he is already fairly certain. She is dripping wet.

At the unexpected contact, Emily cries out, her hips bucking up, then slamming back down onto his hand. Her face is still inches from his, and he can feel her breath now, hitching in her throat and then coming in gasps. "Derek, no games tonight," she moans, pleading. "Please, just take me. I need you inside me."

Derek withdraws his fingers from her clenching pussy, and once again takes hold of her hips. "I'm ready," Emily breathes, in response to the question she knew Derek would ask.

And with that, without waiting for Derek to make the next move, Emily sinks onto his straining manhood, her tight walls engulfing his shaft completely. She cries out, her fingers gripping Derek's shoulders. He knows it has been a very long time since she has been filled, and he is happy to let her take her time, to control their speed and depth from her position on top.

Slowly, Emily begins undulating, moving up and down on Derek's cock as he strains his head up to plant a kiss on her breast. His fingers dance over the charm that is branded on her breast, and she shudders involuntarily, pleasure rippling through her unexpectedly as Derek makes contact with the sensitive scar tissue.

His hands continue to travel down her body, stopping to caress the jagged criss-cross pattern of her stomach.

The sensation is completely unexpected, utterly unforeseen.

Emily's entire body jerks at the contact, the skin below Derek's fingers unbelievably sensitive. He continues to massage the area gently, watching Emily's face for clues as to how he is doing. She is sighing, moaning, shuddering and whimpering as he caresses her stomach.

_Take that, Ian Doyle, you bastard._

Emily comes suddenly, shivering deliciously as her orgasm blooms through her body, the waves of pleasure crashing over her again and again. The climax lasts for what seems like forever, and Emily rides it out gladly, her inner muscles squeezing tightly around her lover's manhood.

Derek comes then, his hands stopping their ministrations on Emily's belly, resting instead on her hips, his pelvis thrusting up hard into her. She feels his orgasm filling her, hot and thick.

Emily comes to with her head resting on Derek's chest, her naked body still spead over his. He is still inside her. She makes no effort to move.

"Derek?" The one word is barely audible, her face crushed against his muscled chest.

"Mmmm?" Derek's eyes open, his arms closing around her, holding her.

"What would you say if I told you I am sorry?"

Derek shakes his head, his heart filling with dread.

"I would tell you that you have nothing to be sorry for... and I would want to know why you thought differently." He pauses, his eyes drifting shut again. "But not tonight, Emily. Tonight, I just want this."

Emily snuggles down Derek's body, her arms sliding around his waist. "Me too," she replies softly.

"And Emily?" Derek slurs, his voice heavy with sleep.

Emily waits, her silence his cue.

"I love you."

Emily sighs against his body, her eyes fluttering shut. "I love you, too."


	9. Author's Notes

**Okay, guys, moment of truth: these last two chapters have me feeling really unsure. They do not seem as well-written as any of the chapters before, and I cannot figure out why, seeing as they took me forever to get out. I think I may have writer's block. What do you all think? Please be honest. As always, thanks for reading and for reviewing! :)**

**XOXO  
>EB<strong>


	10. Chapter 9 Confession

**Disclaimer:** The characters of CM are not my property, and I make not a dime from writing about them.

**Spoilers:** A few.

**Rating:** M for adult language and disturbing themes.

**Chapter Nine**

**"_Between lovers a little confession is a dangerous thing."_ -Helen Rowland**

It has been three weeks since Emily blurted out to Derek that she was in love with him.

Three weeks since Derek responded in the most incredibly convincing way possible that he felt the exact same way about her.

They have made love - sweet, thrilling, mindblowing, toe curling love - almost every night since.

And yet, for the last two nights, she has refused to even answer his calls. She hates herself for it, and she knows that he must be confused by her standoffish behavior. But she cannot see him now. Not after that case. Not after the way she reacted to what was in no way more horrific than anything they saw on the dozens of other cases they worked each year.

What would she say to him?

How would she explain away her behavior, without arousing more suspicion than she already has?

_Emily stands beside Derek in the hallway of the hospital, waiting for the doctor to appear and inform them of their latest victim's condition._

_"Agents?" They look up at the doctor, a balding man in his late fifties with a ruddy complexion. His eyes are kind, but his expression is grim. His gaze falls to his clipboard before he glances quickly between Morgan and Prentiss. _

_"We have managed to stabilize Miss Carson. She is resting comfortably, and we expect a full recovery."_

_The doctor hesitates, then continues._

_"She had to be sedated." _

_Derek nods, unfazed. "She has been through a lot, doctor. That's not really so unusual."_

_The doctor shakes his head sadly. "No, Agent, it isn't. But Miss Carson was doing well, psychologically. Remarkably well, actually. It wasn't until she learned that the rape caused her to miscarry that we had to sedate her."_

_Emily's vision swims. _

_She struggles to breathe, reminded somehow of the stuffy attic that she had sat in to read as a little girl. She might have been eight or nine. It was one of many houses she lived in; she doesn't even remember what city. But she remembers chipping away at the drywall one day when she was angry with her mother, and the fluffy pink insulation she uncovered. It reminded her of cotton candy, until it made her breath catch in her throat and caused her eyes to water. _

_Forcing herself to come back to present day, Emily clears her throat, blinking rapidly. "She... she had a miscarriage?" She is merely repeating what the doctor has already said, but she does not know what else to say._

_The doctor nods again, his eyes filled with pity. "She did. We had to perform a D & C. She didn't even know that she was pregnant till we told her - poor thing."_

_Emily nods, forcing her expression to remain blank. Her knees are weak, and she no longer trusts her voice. _

_Derek is shaking his head. "Damn it. Does the husband know?"_

_"Oh no," the doctor replies quickly. "That has to be Miss Carson's decision."_

_"What?" Derek's eyes are wide, disbelieving. "He has a right to know, doctor."_

_Emily runs._

_Well, she walks away, very quickly, ignoring Derek as he calls after her. She stabs the buttons on the elevator frantically, willing the doors to open. When they do, she steps inside and rides down numbly, Derek's words echoing in her head._

_"He has a right to know."_

_Derek, of course, questions her. He wants to know if she is okay. He asks her what is wrong. She gives him a vague bullshit non-answer. He doesn't pretend to buy it, but duty calls, and he has no choice but to let the matter drop. For the time being, anyway._

_Flying home on the jet, Emily curls up with her head on her arm, facing away from the rest of the team._

_When she hears footsteps approaching, she closes her eyes._

_Derek says her name, touches her shoulder._

_She levels her breathing, mimicking the rhythm of sleep._

Now, sitting in her bathtub with her knees pulled up to her chin, Emily wonders if Derek was right. Maybe Dawn Carson's husband does have a right to know about the pregnancy his wife lost. Maybe Derek has a right to know about the pregnancy she lost. He did, after all, have a hand in it.

But this was never about what he deserved. She had never kept the miscarriage from him to hurt him. It was the exact opposite. She knew how devastating the news would be, so why would she inflict that upon him? Simply to make herself feel better?

No way.

But he was the potential father, and he had already made it clear that he would want to know. Emily sighs, resting her forehead on one knee, her long wet curls clinging to either side of her face. She loves Derek Morgan with all her heart, but she also knows how emotional he can sometimes be. He is, through and through, the quintessential alpha male. Emily Prentiss is pro-choice, staunchly defending a woman's right to choose, and a woman's right to tell, or not tell, anyone at all about any pregnancy or termination of pregnancy.

She has never discussed any of that with Derek, and frankly, she is not sure she wants to. Even hypothetically. She finds "pro-life" to be a nonsensical term, and is annoyed by people who tout that philosophy. She very much would prefer not to know if Derek is one of those people.

She also knows that, whatever her political views, nothing is that black and white.

That simply because a woman has the right to keep the news of a pregnancy to herself, does not necessarily mean it is the right thing to do in every instance.

What if he is angry with her?

What if this is the last straw - the one thing he cannot forgive her for?

_What if he doesn't love her anymore?_

Emily is jerked from her reverie by the distant sound of someone pounding on something.

"Emily Prentiss, open this goddamn door before I break it down!"

Derek.

_Oh_ _fucking Christ_.

The pounding continues as Emily stands and steps out of the tub, grabbing for a towel. She knows that he is not about to go anywhere; he will stand on her porch all damn night if she doesn't answer.

That, or he really will break the door down.

"I'm coming!" Emily yells loudly, hoping it will shut Derek the hell up before her neighbours call the police. It works. The pounding stops, and Emily uses what she is sure is a very short window of time before Derek resumes his obnoxious banging on her front door to quickly slide into a pair of cotton pajama pants and an FBI t-shirt.

Still towel drying her hair as she walks to her front door, Emily takes a deep breath, sets her face stoically, and opens.

Derek is pacing, his arms crossed.

When the door opens, he whips around to face Emily, his mouth already opening to speak.

Oh yeah, he is definitely pissed.

"Emily, what the fuck?" His eyes are snapping angrily, his brows drawn together. "I call, you don't answer. I leave messages, you don't call back. You have been avoiding me since the Des Moines case. Do you have any idea how worried I was? Did you honestly think I wouldn't bring my ass down here to check on you? What were you - "

"Derek, stop!"

He does. He rubs a hand over his head, sighing. When he speaks again, his voice is quieter, but still angry. "Emily, I need to know what is going on with you. You're scaring me."

At that, Emily bites her lower lip, hard. She stares into Derek's face, her mind a whirlwind of panic and uncertainty. She can feel panic building in her chest, and she swallows against it.

"I don't want to scare you, Derek. I'm gonna be okay. Really. I'm just... I'm having some bad dreams."

Derek shakes his head firmly. "No. No, Emily. You're lying to me. This is beginning to feel a whole lot like about a year ago, and it's freaking me the hell out. There is something going on with you, and it all started to surface during this last case. In the hospital, you bolted when the doctor started talking about Dawn Carson being sedated. You haven't been right since."

_Fucking goddamn it all._

Emily's stomach is clenching painfully now. Derek is beginning to piece it all together. He is good at this, and she knows it won't be long before he lands on news of Dawn Carson's miscarriage as Emily's stressor.

"Derek, please don't do this." Her voice is too soft, almost timid, the words wrapped in cotton and silk.

Derek walks inside her apartment, closing the door behind him. He stops in the middle of her living room. "Forget it, Em. We are doing this. Last time you begged me not to push something with you, I almost lost you forever. I love you, damn it. Just _talk_ to me."

Emily grits her teeth, anger sparking suddenly behind her dark eyes. "Will you stop that? This is not the same thing! No one is trying to kill me, Derek. I am just going through some things right now."

"Yeah, okay. You're going through some stuff. Then tell me, Emily. We can get through it. Whatever it is, no matter how awful it is, we can get through it. I will help you get through it. I promise, Emily. You just gotta talk to me."

More than anything, Emily wants to believe that what Derek is saying is true.

Time stands still, as she nods slowly and opens her mouth to speak.

**As you can see, I am veering a bit from the direction the show is currently taking (the case I mentioned is my own invention, and the time frame is somewhat left to interpretation). I kind of had to, to make this all work and fit properly. As always, thank you for reading. And as always, I value reviews more than I love mint chocolate chip ice cream, and more than I hate mayonnaise.** **:)**


	11. Chapter 10 Betrayal

**Disclaimer:** I wish I owned CM, but I do not.

**Spoilers:** Not really.

**Rating:** M for adult language and disturbing themes.

**Chapter Ten**

**_"She would see it as betrayal. Nothing more. Nothing less."_ -Samantha Young**

She opens her mouth to speak.

"You said Dawn Carson's husband had a right to know that his wife had a miscarriage."

Confusion colors Derek's face. He nods, his eyebrows knitting together again. "Well, yeah. It's his baby, too, Em." Shaking her head firmly, Emily crosses her arms tightly over her waist. "No, Derek. It was not a baby. It was not even a fetus. It was a pregnancy. And in this country, women still have the right to choose."

Derek looks even more confused. He stares at Emily as if she has grown another head. "O-kay..." he replies, slowly. "But Dawn Carson did not choose to have a miscarriage. Look, I'm not saying we should overturn Roe v. Wade. Abortion is a topic I don't have much room to discuss, seeing as I don't have a uterus. I'm all for a woman's right to choose, even if it is a shitty thing to have to choose.

But Emily... Dawn Carson's husband was not some random guy who knocked her up. He is a man who loves her. I'm just saying I think it's the right thing to do, to let him know what he's lost."

Pausing, Derek studies Emily's face, which has become a mask as dull and unreadable as concrete. Still clutching her arms tightly around herself, she stands motionless.

"Emily. What does this have to do with you?" His expression is tightly controlled, his hands clenching into fists, then slowly relaxing. When she doesn't respond, he takes a step toward her. "Emily," he repeats, slowly. "Answer my question."

Still recieving no reply, Derek closes his eyes tightly, swallowing hard against the dread he feels filling his entire body and soul. "Emily, did you..." He opens his eyes, but looks past her at the wall. "Did you have an abortion?"

"No!" Emily finally speaks, her voice snapping across the room like a rubber band. "I mean, I did... you know that..."

Derek slowly exhales, nodding. "No, I know, when you were a teenager..." He pauses again, looking her in the eyes. "But... that's not what this is about, is it?"

For a moment, Emily considers lying. It would be fairly easy. The door is already open for her, all she has to do is step through it. She can say that yes, this is about the abortion she had when she was fourteen, alone and scared. She will act upset, because she is. And Derek will hug her, and tell her that he loves her, and that he understands.

He will believe her.

And she will feel like a monster.

"Derek, I don't want to lie to you," Emily whispers, the words barely audible. "I just don't want to hurt you, either." She stares at him. He stares back, waiting. "Emily," he says, softly. "Please. Tell me. What is it?"

When Emily speaks, it is through a throat swollen with grief and fear. "I did not have an abortion," she says, her gaze settling on the wall behind Derek. "I had a... a miscarriage."

She is afraid to look at him, her body tensed for the explosion she is sure will follow her confession.

It does not come.

"When?" One word, a question asked by a man who does not want the answer. He needs it.

When Emily again does not respond, he repeats the question, this time a tortured demand. "_When_, Emily?"

"It was after we were... together... the last time. Before..." she almost chokes on the name, "Before Doyle."

Derek stares blankly. He is calm. Unnaturally calm. Terrifyingly calm. Emily swallows thickly, licking her impossibly dry lips. It is sandpaper on sandpaper. Her arms drop to her sides, hands knotting in the cotton of her pants. "Derek," she whispers brokenly. "I'm sorry. I swear I didn't know."

Suddenly, Derek's expression shifts. His eyes narrow, his jaw ticking. He speaks, his voice dangerously low. "What do you mean? You didn't know...? Didn't know _what_?"

Emily blinks rapidly, confused. "When I went after Doyle," she says, cautiously. "I didn't know that I was... I was pregnant." She clasps her hands in front of her, despair taking over her. This was going just as badly as she could have imagined. "I was under so much stress," she continues, desperate to offer an explanation. "I never noticed the symptoms... I should have... I didn't, and I'm sorry, Derek. I'm so sorry."

No response.

"Maybe I should have told you." Emily keeps talking, unable to stand the silence hanging between them. "I just didn't see any reason to make you live with that, when there was nothing you could do about it..."

"Doyle did this?" Derek's face is still as stone, but his eyes are gleaming dangerously now, hatred flashing raw and hot. "That animal caused you to lose our... to miscarry?"

Emily shakes her head, speaking quickly. "No. Well, yes... the beating did, the stabbing, I think. But he didn't know... I didn't even know..."

And then comes the blow-up she has been anticipating.

"He _didn't know_?" Derek erupts. His voice explodes, filling the space between them and beyond. Emily jolts. Derek continues, his face filled with rage. "Are you seriously making excuses for him, Emily? Are you fucking _kidding_ me right now? He took so much from you, and you can't even get angry about _this_? I mean, I get it, you fucked the guy. Maybe you had a thing for him. But Jesus Christ, at what point do you admit that he is a selfish cocksucker who dragged you through hell and took us all with you?"

There is no air in the place where Emily is now. There is only excruciating pain. She is falling through fire, hitting blades on the way down. Every part of her soul is engulfed in thick black smoke, suffocating her and blurring her vision.

Something she heard once flashes through her mind. Something to the effect that, there is no worse pain than hearing the worst things you think about yourself, thrown in your face by the person you love.

Derek stops, stepping back. He sees the pain on Emily's face, her wounded eyes wide and unblinking. Her lips are twisted tightly together, as if she has just tasted something bitter.

"Emily," he begins, desperately. "Emily, I'm sorry. I should not have said that. I didn't mean it." Stepping toward her, he reaches out to touch her shoulder.

She recoils violently, as if his touch is pure poison.

"Get away from me," she chokes out. "Don't fucking touch me."

"Emily, please." The words are frantic, frenzied. "Listen to me, I am sorry. What I said, it is not true. I was upset, but that is all."

Emily stares at Derek, blankly. In place of the anguish she felt just moments before, she can feel a dull numbness overtaking her body.

There is no more fire, no more smoke. Now she feels only ice, freezing in her veins.

Derek sees the invisible door slamming, shutting him out. He has seen that before, and it terrifies him.

He tries again.

"I love you, Emily. I told you I would help you through this, and I will."

Carefully tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear, Emily speaks flatly. "Well, Derek," she replies, her voice ringing hollow in her own ears. "I'm afraid I've enjoyed just about as much of your help as I can stand."

"Emily, no! Listen to me, please. Emily. Please. I am sorry. I'm an asshole, and you did not deserve that. You have never judged me, and I have no right to do that to you. Emily... please..."

Opening her front door, Emily turns her back to the man pleading with her.

"You need to leave, Derek." She keeps her gaze fixed on the floor, waiting, until it is apparent that Derek is not making a move to exit. When she speaks again, her voice rings with authority. "_Now_, Derek. Get the hell out of my house."

He walks out, his steps slow and deliberately halting. Once outside, he turns to face her again. "I'm sorry," he repeats, tears coloring the words. "I love you," he repeats, and the tears are now visible in his eyes.

Emily closes the door.

**Don't shoot! I know, I know... sad note to leave you hanging on. More to come, I promise! Reviews motivate and inspire me. ;)**


	12. Chapter 11 Heartbreak

**Disclaimer:** Don't own CM, and CM don't own me.

**Spoilers:** Yes, for seasons four and seven.

**Rating:** M for adult language and adult themes.

**Chapter Eleven**

**_"The emotion that can break your heart is sometimes the very one that heals it..."_ -Nicholas Sparks**

"You ready for another, miss?"

At the sound of the bartender's voice, Emily looks up from the ice melting in her rocks glass. She hesitates. She has already had two vodka tonics, and she knows that alcohol really is not good for her stomach ulcer.

The liquor is starting to spread through her blood stream, though, and already she can feel her judgment being affected. She decides, then and there, that obliterating the pain of losing someone she had fought so long and hard to keep might be worth a little discomfort later on.

"Yeah," she motions to the bartender. "Double, please."

When the drink appears in front of her, she downs it quickly, wincing slightly at the burning sensation. This time, the bartender replaces it without asking. Emily sips this one, slowly_. It's not like I have anywhere to be_, she reminds herself, bitterly.

It has been nine days since she ordered Derek out of her house, and she has not seen him outside of work in that time. At work, they are professional. No one seems to suspect that anything is wrong between them.

He sent flowers to her house the day after she kicked him out. There was a note, but she didn't read it. She simply sent the flowers back, with a message: _Leave me alone_. He left her a single voicemail message for the next three nights, each one the same. _"I'm sorry, Emily. I love you."_

On the fourth day, she had walked up to him as soon as she got to work. "Stop calling me," she had demanded. "I mean it. We are done."

From then on, he didn't call.

He texted.

_I'm sorry, Emily. I love you._

Why is this so hard to forgive? She knows that any rational person would ask her that. The fact is, it is not so much what Derek said that night, as the implications of his words. He had told her that he loved her, that she was not used, that it didn't matter to him what she had done with Doyle. And she had believed him.

Now, she knows that it wasn't true._ "I mean, I get it, you fucked the guy. Maybe you had a thing for him."_ He has not forgiven her for anything. He resents her. For what she did with Doyle, and for costing him a chance at fatherhood by putting herself in the line of fire.

The worst part is, she does not blame him.

And she knows, deep down, that he deserves better than her.

Maybe it isn't him she needs to forgive at all. But forgiving yourself is a tall order, especially when the person you love most cannot forgive you.

_"Emily Prentiss?" _A breathless voice from the past filters through Emily's alcohol infused haze. Glancing up, her eyes meet the twinkling brown eyes of Supervisory Special Agent Jordan Todd.

"Jordan!" Emily sits up straight on her barstool, struggling to offer a smile. Jordan has not changed. She still has that perfectly pulled together look, the flawless mocha skin and dazzling smile.

There was a time when Emily had been captivated by that dazzling smile.

Emily shakes her head, stunned. "Wow, you look great. It's been... well, forever." Jordan laughs breezily, shrugging. "Three years, Em, but who's counting?" Leaning down, she closes the space between them, grabbing Emily in a tight hug, which Emily glady returns.

Sometimes, the best thing for a broken heart is meaningless conversation with someone who has no knowledge of said broken heart.

Even when that someone is an ex-lover.

Not that it matters that much, in this case. Jordan had been a good friend, and the sexual relationship they had shared was a casual one. Two people who had a lot in common, and were very sexually compatible, enjoying each other. Theirs was one of those rare cases in which there really were "no strings attached."

Emily releases Jordan, smiling lightly.

"You're still at Counter Terrorism, right?"

"I am. Right where I belong." Sliding onto the barstool beside Emily's, Jordan twirls her straw in her drink, leveling a stare directly into Emily's eyes. "So. You're back. I wanted to come see you earlier, but..."

Rolling her eyes playfully, Emily forces a casual laugh. "But you had no idea what you'd say," she offers.

Jordan grins unapologetically. "Something like that," she agrees. Taking a sip through her straw, she adds, suggestively, "But, if I'd known how good you still look, I might have struggled through."

Emily rolls her eyes again, smirking. "Damn, Jordan, you used to be smoother. That was incredibly lame."

Jordan laughs easily. "What can I say, Em. I'm out of practice." There's that grin again. "Or maybe you just take all the smoothness right out of me."

"Okay, that was a little better..." Emily chuckles, feeling herself relax. Looking down at her glass, Derek's face floats into her mind, and her stomach knots painfully. "I'm afraid I'm not much company tonight," she apologizes, glancing up at Jordan's probing gaze.

"I find that pretty hard to believe," Jordan replies. "You were never anything but good company."

At Emily's exasperated sigh, Jordan rushes to clarify.

"I didn't mean it like that," she quickly continues. "Just that you always knew how to listen. And offer advice. And keep me from losing my fucking mind in that unit," she smiles, nudging Emily's arm. "Why can't I return the favor? If you don't mind my saying, there is a lot going on behind those lovely eyes tonight."

Sighing softly, Emily nods. "Thanks, Jordan. You're right... there is a lot going on here. It's just... it's complicated." Taking another swallow of watered down vodka, Emily closes her eyes briefly. When she opens them again, there is a knowing gleam in Jordan's eyes.

"What's her name?"

Emily laughs humorlessly, pushing away her now empty glass. "You're gonna love this," she replies, fumbling with a napkin. "It's a him."

"Why would I love that?" Jordan tilts her head, forcing Emily to meet her eyes. "Pain is pain, Emily. Whether it is caused by a man or a woman, it all sucks." She drains her glass, then adds, "Anyway, just because I am exclusively a girl on girl kinda chick, doesn't mean I didn't always know that you swing for both teams."

"Any other cliches you want to throw at me there, Jordan?" Emily winks playfully, grabbing the fresh vodka tonic from the bartender. She tips it back, letting the liquid wash down her throat and numb her senses further. This time, it doesn't burn her throat at all. It's working.

Jordan smiles, undeterred. "Nope, that's all for now." Propping her chin on one hand, she continues. "Right now, I would prefer to get to the heart of what - or who - has the unflappable Emily Prentiss drowning her sorrows."

Emily sighs again, threading her fingers together on the bar. "That's really nice of you, Jordan," she replies. "It really is. Honestly, I just really don't think I want to talk about it yet."

Jordan nods slowly. "Okay," she agrees, reluctantly. "I'm not going to push it. If you don't want to talk about it, I'll respect that. But you will talk to me let me know if there is anything I can do, won't you?"

It is a bad idea.

She will hate herself for it tomorrow.

Hell, she will probably hate herself for it tonight.

She hates herself for even thinking it.

And still, she speaks.

"Actually, Jordan," the words roll off her tongue like turpentine. "There is something."

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Being with a woman is different.

Not better, not worse. Different.

It is all gentle curves and the smell of vanilla body spray, mingling with the floral scent of perfume. Breasts meet breasts, soft hands caressing softer skin. Smooth legs entwine together, full lips exploring.

Jordan is moaning quietly, her body rocking against Emily's. Her mouth is deliciously soft as it finds the hollow of Emily's throat. They find their perfect rhythm, gasping for air as sweat slicked skin is cast under the moonlight peeking in through the bedroom window.

When it ends, Emily does not pretend that she has any interest in a post coital embrace. She slides off the bed, pulling on a t-shirt and walking across her bedroom. She fumbles in the top drawer of her dresser, searching.

"What are you looking for?" Jordan's soft voice is inquisitive. Concerned.

"Nothing," Emily mumbles dismissively, pulling out her emergency pack of cigarettes. It has been months since she felt the need for one.

Pulling the window open, she sits cross legged on the straight backed chair she left there last time she smoked and flicks her lighter. Squinting against the flame, she takes a long drag, then blows the smoke into the cool night air.

Jordan is suddenly behind her. She is wearing Emily's robe. That's one advantage of sleeping with women: sharing clothes is a lot easier.

Touching Emily's shoulder, Jordan speaks gently. "Em, I don't know who this guy is, but I think you should call him. It's pretty obvious that you're in love with him."

Emily takes another silent drag.

Jordan sighs, turning to gather her clothes.

Emily bites her lip, then speaks.

"It's Derek Morgan."

_Fuck. Shut up, Emily._

Jordan's movements still, and she turns back toward Emily. "Seriously?" Her mouth quirks up at one corner. "You fell for that whole Casanova routine?"

Emily's face stiffens, and she flicks the filter of her cigarette, hard. "Yeah," she states flatly. "I guess I did."

Jordan blinks, moving toward Emily again. "I was just kidding, Em." She shakes her head. "Look, I don't know Morgan. But if being away from him is making you this miserable, you need to at least try to work it out. You owe that to yourself."

"He hurt me, Jordan." Emily swallows hard, dropping her cigarette and watching it fall to the ground below. "Some of the things he said, you know, I just can't get out of my head. I mean, he was hurt, too. But..."

"Call him." Jordan's voice is firm. "Look, like I said, I don't know Derek. But from what I gathered, he is a pretty emotional guy. Whatever he said, whatever he did - I'd be willing to bet a good sum that it was almost purely reacting to whatever happened between you two."

Jordan pulls her jeans on, steps into her sandals. She shrugs into her jacket, runs her hands through her long curls. She walks over to Emily, reaches down and gently grasps her chin. She kisses her cheek, hugs her one last time.

As she turns to leave, she takes a long look at Emily, and repeats two words.

"Call him."

And then she is gone.

**Okay guys, seriously... PLEASE don't shoot! This is a MORGAN/PRENTISS fanfiction, and shall remain so. I promise! Be patient, and stay the course with me... :) Sometimes the best relationships take the bumpiest roads to get there. Read, review, and be merry!**


	13. Chapter 12 Courage

**Disclaimer:** Don't own them.

**Spoilers:** For the series as a whole, and for season two.

**Rating:** Sticking M, just to be safe. Pretty heavy stuff throughout this whole story.

**Chapter Twelve**

_**"Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that something else is more important than fear." -**_**Ambrose Redmoon**

_"Call him."_

The last two words that Jordan had spoken to Emily keep ringing in her head.

Jordan.

Emily, what have you done?

She lies in the dark, staring up at her ceiling, but sleep eludes her. When she closes her eyes, she sees Derek's pained face, hears his voice: _"I'm sorry, Emily. I want to help you... I love you."_

And then she hears her own voice, rejecting him. _"Don't fucking touch me... Get the hell out of my house."_

How could she have said that to him?

He had said things, hurtful things. But that was not why she threw him out of her house. As much as she tries to deny that, she knows it is true. She threw him out because of the truth that rang in his words. The very things she fears most about herself, spoken in Derek's voice.

When he accused her of having feelings for Doyle, when he so crudely pointed out that she'd had a sexual relationship with him, when he demanded to know why she was not angry at Doyle... she had felt as though she were suffocating. Because of all the things that she has to live with after doing the jobs that she has done, those are the ones that haunt her. They make her question herself.

Apparently, they make Derek question her, too.

When she finally somehow drifts off to sleep, she dreams. It is six years earlier, shortly after Emily began working at the Behavioral Analysis Unit.

_"Ohh..." Emily gasps as the hot coffee she is pouring spills over her hand. Grabbing a paper towel, she hears a chuckle from behind her._

_"Morning, Emily. Have a good weekend?"_

_Derek grabs another coffee pot, pouring himself a cup._

_Emily laughs self-consciously. "Yeah," she answers, then hesitates. "No... yes." Derek chuckles again. "Oh, I've been there." Emily smiles, picking up her coffee. "No, it wasn't... ugh. I don't wanna get into it."_

_"No problem," Derek shrugs, still smiling as he stirs his coffee._

_"It just feels weird for me," Emily rushes to explain, "to talk about my personal life here. I don't really know you guys all that well yet."_

_Derek nods understandingly. "I totally get that," he assures her._

_As he walks away, Emily feels compelled to explain further. She wants to talk to Derek about her weekend, and she isn't sure why. She hesitates, then blurts out, "I think I totally screwed up this date."_

_Derek turns back toward her, grinning. "Okay," he replies. "What happened?"_

_"You have to understand," Emily begins. "I'm a nerd."_

_A smile spreads over Derek's face, and he is laughing again. Emily laughs, too. "Like, seriously. And I can fool people for days. Weeks, even. But sooner or later, I blow my cover, and I say something... so geeky. And he doesn't respond, and I lose all confidence."_

_Derek looks at her questioningly. "What did you say?"_

_Averting her gaze from Derek's, Emily sighs. "Kilgore Trout."_

_Without missing a beat, Derek raises his eyebrows. "The guy has a problem with Kurt Vonnegut?"_

_"You know Kilgore Trout?"_

_"I read Slaughter House Five when I was twelve, and it blew my mind. Seriously, I couldn't get enough. So I kept going, and I read them all."_

_Emily cannot contain her excitement. Has she really just met a man who not only understands her nerdy side, but actually shares it to some degree?_

_"Yeah, yeah! Me too! What's your favorite?"_

_"Oh, Mother Night," Derek replies without even thinking._

_"And what about the American spy?"_

_"Pretends to be a Nazi..."_

_"You are who you pretend to be."_

_"So be careful who pretend to be."_

_"Oh my God! I can't believe you're a Vonnegut fan!" Emily shakes her head, a huge smile lighting up her face. "You just made my day."_

When Emily's eyes open, the dream is still rolling through her mind.

One line in particular repeats itself: _"Be careful who you pretend to be."_

That day, discussing Vonnegut's work, was the first time Emily had ever really talked to Derek Morgan. It was the first time she had felt a connection with him. She had held herself off, of course. It is not generally her style to get involved with co-workers, Jordan Todd notwithstanding.

God, she misses him.

She needs him.

_"Call him."_

Sitting up in bed, Emily squints at the glaring red numbers on her clock radio. 4:37 am - on a Saturday. She hesitates. It's too early, she tells herself. I don't want to wake him, she reasons. He is probably enjoying his day off, sleeping in.

She grabs her cell phone off the nightstand.

Suddenly, she cannot keep her fingers from dialing the numbers.

When she hears the ringing on the line, she almost hangs up. She is not ready for this, not yet.

_"Emily. Are you okay?"_ The voice answering the phone is alert. Emily knows exactly how Derek sounds when he first wakes up: that slow, heavy drawl. As if his voice is cloaked in flannel.

Right now, he is wide awake.

"Hello, Derek," Emily replies softly, not answering his question.

Her heart is slamming against her ribcage. Biting her lip, she winces against the fiery pain spreading through her belly. Stomach ulcers and grain alcohol plus cigarettes really don't mix. Who knew.

_"Emily..."_ Derek seems at a loss for words. Clearly, he was not expecting her to call this morning.

_Well, that makes two of us._

"Derek," Emily closes her eyes, swallowing hard against the acid rising in her thoat. "I'm sorry."

The line is silent.

For a moment, Emily is afraid that Derek has hung up.

Then: _"Can we talk?"_ His voice is cautious, yet hopeful.

Emily winces, clutching her stomach as a blowtorch is ignited between her navel and breastbone. Son of a bitch.

_"Emily...?"_

"I'm sorry," Emily apologizes again, almost choking on the scalding liquid obstructing her throat. "Yes, we can talk. I'd like that."

_"I'll be over in about a half hour, okay?"_

Emily nods, feeling perspiration beginning to form on her face as the blowtorch becomes a hot poker, twisting into her stomach and up past her chest. "Okay. I'll see you then," she manages to respond.

She doesn't even bother to hang up. Tossing the phone aside, she bolts for the bathroom. As she bends over at the waist, vomiting what feels like hot lava and looks like a Bloody Mary, she once again curses her poor judgment.


	14. Chapter 13 Trust

**Disclaimer:** Not my characters, just my story.

**Spoilers:** For the series as a whole.

**Rating:** For this particular chapter, probably T.

**Chapter Thirteen**

_**"After all, damn it, what does being in love mean if you can't trust a person."** _**-Evelyn Waugh**

Twenty minutes after talking to Derek, Emily has quickly showered and swallowed a handful of Zantac pills. Sitting on her couch, knees drawn up to her chest, she wonders if he will actually show. She wouldn't blame him if he stood her up. Payback, as they say, is a bitch.

She hugs her knees. She smooths her hands over her still damp hair, ensuring that it has not budged from it's signature style, parted on the side and pulled back. She stares at the clock on her wall. It has been thirty-nine minutes since her call to Derek ended.

A knock sounds at the door.

Instinctively, Emily knows that it is him.

Standing slowly, she walks to the door and opens it.

"Derek," she stares at his chest, unsure of how to proceed. "Hey..."

She can feel Derek's eyes burning into her. "Hey," he replies, gently. "Can I come in?"

"Of course," she mumbles, standing back, allowing Derek room to pass. "Come in." He walks past her, stopping just short of the living room. When Emily looks at him, his eyes are still trained on her face. "Why did you call me now?" He questions.

Emily looks down at her feet, searching for words to answer. She cannot lie to him, but she does not want to begin this conversation by telling him she slept with someone else, either. When she does not respond, Derek asks a different question. "Are you okay?"

He is eying her nervously, his handsome features filling again with dread.

Finally meeting his gaze, Emily shakes her head slowly. "No," she answers honestly. "I'm not."

Derek nods too, relief washing over his face. "Thank you," he replies, simply.

She blinks. "For what?"

"For being honest with me."

Emily sighs then, biting her lip. "Yeah," she crosses her arms. "I guess I had that coming."

Derek groans. "Emily! You have _nothing_ coming! This is what I was talking about. What I said before was wrong, it was stupid and selfish. But Emily... _Emily_, listen to me. You can't blame Doyle, because you blame yourself. You have got to stop doing this. None of what happened to you was your fault. I am not trying to punish you by thanking you for honesty. Do you get that at all?"

Emily nods. "I know you're not. I'm not... I don't blame myself." Even to her own ears, the words are flimsy. She cannot even convince herself.

"We're backtracking here." Derek sighs, shaking his head. "For about two minutes there, I thought you were going to be honest with me."

Emily looks up slowly, her eyes filling with a hot mixture of anger and pain. "You want honesty, Derek?" Her voice is steady. "Okay," she nods. "I will be honest."

Silence, as Derek watches her face closely, waiting for her to continue.

"What you said to me before, about how I fucked Doyle and had a "thing" for him - "

Emily holds up her hand, silencing Derek as he opens his mouth to protest, or apologize again. She continues.

"You were right, Derek. I did fuck him. It was my choice. I did not ask for that job, but I took it, because I believed in my country. I was young and optimistic. I believed that I could trust my cell to protect me. I believed that Ian Doyle was a murdering bastard.

"Then, I saw more than just the asshole with the gun. I saw a broken man, willing to sacrifice everything for the cause he believed in. Before Doyle, the only thing any man wanted from me was sex. Even the men in my cell saw me as a piece of ass, and sold me as a sex toy for international security. Ian Doyle never mistreated me. He was gentle. I know what you must think of me for saying these things. I know what I think of myself.

"What he did to me in that warehouse, and the way he terrorized me before, was wrong. It was brutal, violent, and sadistic. I understand the impulse, though. I know what it's like to feel betrayed."

For several long moments, Derek does not speak.

When he does, his voice is calm but pained. "I get that, Emily," he says. "I hate that you were put in that position, but I get what you're saying. It's one of the things I love most about you. That way you have of seeing the best in people, of seeing things in shades of gray. I'm not so good at that."

Emily laughs softly, then winces at the short stab of pain the movement sends shooting through her stomach. "Trust me, Derek," she says, rubbing her side. "It isn't exactly my favorite personal quality about myself."

Reaching out to touch Emily's arm, concern shines from his eyes as he notices her pained grimace. "Hey, you sure you're okay?"

Breathing steadily, Emily shakes her head. "You know what I value most in a relationship, Derek? Hypothetically, at least?"

"Um..." Derek looks dumbfounded at the unexpected question. "What?"

Emily snorts derisively. "Get ready to laugh," she warns, as the pain in her abdomen begins to subside. "What I value most is communication... you know, honesty. And trust."

"I'm not laughing," Derek tells her, grimly. "I believe you, Emily." He pauses, and Emily can tell that he is thinking. "Maybe," he begins again, slowly, "the reason you value those things so much, is because they are difficult for you. I'd say it makes it that much more worth it when you can trust someone enough to put in the work."

Leaning back against the hallway wall, Emily crosses her arms. "I never have trusted anyone enough to do that," she admits, regretfully.

Looking up into Derek's face, her heart pounding wildly, she quietly adds, "Until now."


	15. Chapter 14 Forgiveness

**Disclaimer:** CM is not mine, I just hijacked their characters for my own amusement.

**Spoilers:** For the series as a whole.

**Rating:** M again, to be safe.

**Chapter Fourteen**

**_"It is very easy to forgive others their mistakes; it takes more grit to forgive them for having witnessed your own."_ -Jessamyn West**

Derek takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. For a moment, Emily thinks he is going to cry.

"I love you, Derek," she tells him.

Taking a deep breath of her own, she continues, "And that is why I need to be honest with you. About everything." Taking a step toward him, she declares softly, "Full disclosure."

Derek looks nervous. He looks terrified. He looks like he might bolt.

Emily waits, allowing him time to run if he wants to.

When he doesn't, she takes another deep breath, and begins. "I have an ulcer. That is why I was cringing before, that's why I probably sounded weird on the phone, and it's also the real reason I've pretty much given up caffeine."

Derek's brow furrows. "You said you were trying to relax..."

"Yeah," Emily nods. "Which was partially true. But I also developed a stomach ulcer, largely due to the stress and what happened to me last year. Usually, I don't have much pain, but I drank alcohol and smoked a cigarette last night."

At Derek's disapproving look, Emily smiles slightly. "I know. Giving up caffeine only to douse an open stomach sore in liquor and smoky chemicals, not my brightest move." She shakes her head, "I usually don't smoke, though, or drink much. I promise."

Derek nods, "Okay," he accepts, processing Emily's words and her sudden forthcoming attitude. "Why did you lie to me about it?" It seems strange that she would feel the need to omit something like that.

"Honestly, I didn't want you to go all soft on me," Emily replies, her dark eyes twinkling mischeviously. "I can still kick your ass during combatives training, and I wanted to make sure you knew it."

Derek laughs, "Oh, woman. You wish." At Emily's threatening glare, he bites his lip to hold back another smile. "Okay, okay," he allows. "_Sometimes_, you kick my ass."

Sobering, Derek meets Emily's eyes, seriously. "Is there anything else?"

His face reflects a true hope that there is nothing else. That Emily has disclosed all.

And yet deeper in his eyes is a reflection of something else.

If there is something else - if Emily has, in fact, not disclosed everything yet - he needs to know.

Reluctantly, Emily nods. "There is one more thing."

All laughter is gone from the room, as Emily opens her mouth to lay out the one last thing she needs to tell Derek before they can continue with their relationship. One last hurdle to clear before they begin to work through all of the issues: the miscarriage, his anger, her self doubt.

Somehow, all of that fades into the background as Derek waits for Emily to speak.

When she does, he feels as though the air has been punched from his body.

"I slept with someone else."

_When Derek was about five years old, he sat watching cartoons in the family room of the house he shared with his mom, dad and two sisters. He was wearing pajama pants and nothing else. As he watched Road Runner narrowly escape Wiley Coyote yet again, he absentmindedly fiddled with his navel._

_His sister, Sarah, was nine._

_"You know, if you keep pulling on your belly button, all of the wind will leave your body and you'll go flying through the air like a balloon."_

_Pulling his hand away quickly, he glared at her. "Nuh-uh!" _

_Smirking, she walked out of the room._

_Derek could just picture himself, all the air leaving his body. He would try to breathe, but he wouldn't be able to. Sailing through the air, wind whistling from his lungs, until he finally landed - a squishy five year old pile of skin._

For the second time in his life, Derek has that mental image. He is being hurtled through space, oxygen a luxury that he cannot attain.

Emily is apologizing, pleading with him. She wants him to say something. Anything.

"Yell at me," she begs. "Scream at me."

Derek shakes his head, the room tilting in front of him as he does so. "No." He folds his arms over his chest, biting back the angry accusations trying desperately to escape from this throat. "I'm not going to do that."

He closes his eyes, and immediately regrets it. He sees Emily's face, beautiful contorted in ecstasy. Hears her moans of pleasure, her soft pleas for more contact. Only they are not directed at him. They are awarded to someone else.

"Who?" Derek wants to know. His eyes are open, his face a silent storm of anguish and torment.

Emily's stomach knots painfully.

"Derek," she pleads. "Don't ask me that."

His face darkens, eyes almost black with rage.

"Okay," Emily consents, her hands clasping in front of her, unconsciously defending herself. "Okay." she repeats. "If you want to know, I'll tell you."

Derek nods almost imperceptively, waiting.

"It was... it was Jordan. Jordan Todd."

Derek's eyes widen incredulously. His mouth opens, but no sound exits. Several moments pass, his face a whirlwind of emotions. Finally, he finds his voice. "Jordan is a woman," he says, dumbly.

Emily blinks. "Yeah, last I checked." She immediately regrets her choice of words. Derek looks like his head is about to explode. "So what?" Emily continues quickly, confused. "Derek, you know I date women, too. I'm bisexual."

"Yeah, I know," Derek agrees. "I just... this is probably going to sound really Neanderthal and backwards, Emily, but... is that why? Is it because you needed to be with a woman? Did you, I don't know, did you miss that?"

"No, Derek." Emily is shaking her head firmly. "No. When I sleep with people, it really has nothing to do with gender. Granted, being with women is different than being with men, but both are equally satisfying. I really don't see gender at all. It isn't about that. It is about the person."

Studying his face, Emily can't tell whether her words are making Derek feel better or making it worse.

"Did you and Jordan ever date?"

Emily shakes her head slowly, but answers truthfully. "No, we didn't date," she replies, carefully. "We did sleep together, before. But it wasn't like that. It was just... you know... sex."

"So, Jordan is bisexual, too?" He looks as if he is trying to understand. Emily takes that as a positive sign, a reason to remain cautiously optimistic.

"Nooo," she replies, immediately, her eyebrows raising. "Jordan is a lesbian. Gold star certified."

Derek stares. "I have no idea what that means, Princess."

_Princess._

Emily's heart jumps, but she holds back her smile.

"Never mind," she mumbles, cursing herself silently for her stupid choice of words. Of course Derek has no idea what "gold star" means. _Jesus, Emily. Just shut up._

"I understand that you're angry," she whispers. "And I am sorry. I really am."

Derek looks at her, and she can tell he is torn. He starts to shrug, then shakes his head.

"I don't know, Emily," he admits. "I don't really have a right to be. I mean, you didn't cheat on me, right? You had told me we were through. But I mean, yeah, I am a little angry. I just don't understand _why_ you did it. I love you, and you love me. You could have come to me, Emily."

"I know," Emily is still whispering. She doesn't quite trust her voice. "I wanted to, Derek. So badly. I just... I was still fighting with myself. You deserve better than me, that's all I kept thinking. And then I went to the bar, and got drunk. Jordan was there... I think I just needed to be with someone, to distract myself from what I was doing to us."

"Emily," Derek's eyes snap furiously. "I do not deserve better than you. If anything, it is the other way around. The only damn thing that is hurting us right now is that you can't seem to see how perfect you are."

Forget corny marriage proposals. Screw long stemmed red roses and bottles of champagne. A lover's heartfelt words, spoken without even thinking - this is the stuff that love is made of.

Emily's eyes misting over, she can feel the last of her defenses melting. What the hell had she been thinking? "God, Derek," she breathes. "I cannot ever lose you."

Closing the distance between them, Derek folds Emily into his arms and holds on for dear life. "And you never will, Princess."

_Princess._

This time, she allows herself to smile through her tears.

**Just a friendly reminder: This is, once again, NOT THE END. :) Our favorite couple still has a few issues to work through, but at least they're doing it together now, eh? As always, thank you xINFINTIY for reading, and as always, reviews are my bread and peanut butter! 3 XOXO EB**


	16. Author's Notes Pt 2

**Hey lovelies!**

**Just an update: I have two new chapters completed, and have been trying like frack to get them added on here. For some reason, the website seems to be fighting me tooth and nail. Please be patient, I will not rest until the chapters are uploaded for you all to read and (hopefully) enjoy! :)**

**Thanks again to all my beautiful readers and reviewers! &hearts**


	17. Chapter 15 Promise

**Disclaimer:** I own not a thing. For my amusement, I sometimes borrow them.

**Spoilers:** For the series as a whole, but no particular heavy episode spoilers.

**Rating:** Mild M for disturbing imagery.

**Chapter Fifteen**

**_"It is not the oath that makes us believe the man, but the man the oath."_ -Aeschylus**

Sunday morning is Emily's favorite time of the week, at least when she isn't working a case. The work week is over, all of her errands have been attended to on Saturday, and she can do whatever she feels like doing.

Right now, it is just after five am, and she feels like lying in the arms of her best friend and lover.

No such luck.

"Hey, Hotch," Emily answers her phone, stifling a yawn. "Let me guess..."

Hotch sighs wearily. His voice is apologetic. "I'm afraid so, Prentiss," he confirms. "Sorry to interrupt your weekend, but we have a case. It was hand delivered to me directly from Strauss. I don't anticipate a lot of sleep for anyone the next few days."

Emily makes no effort to muffle the annoyance in her voice. "Hand delivered by Strauss? So it's political." A statement, not a question. "Great."

As her voice rises from the initial hushed tone she used to answer the phone, Derek groans and rolls over, one eye cracking open questioningly. Before he can say a word, Emily shoots him a warning look, gesturing to the phone still attached to her ear. "Hotch," she mouths as explanation. Derek nods, sitting up.

Hotch is answering her question, and he does not sound any more pleased than she feels. "Political? I don't know. Probably. It definitely involves some powerful people. Strauss did warn me that this is top priority. We don't touch another case until this one is resolved."

Swinging her legs off the side of the bed, Emily rolls her eyes. "Got it, Hotch. I'll be there in forty-five minutes."

"Make it thirty," Hotch replies.

Derek sits up then, rubbing his eyes. "Duty calls, I take it?" Emily stands and walks to her closet. "Yeah," she replies, pulling a pair of slacks from a hanger. "Your phone should be ringing any - "

Emily is interrupted by a vibrating buzz from the nightstand. Derek grabs the offending device and answers it, his voice reflecting the appropriate levels of surprise and disappointment. As if he had no idea that Hotch was going to call. As if he had not been in bed with his partner when she received the call first.

When he hangs up, Derek walks up behind Emily, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Hey, beautiful," he whispers, kissing her neck gently. "You know we need to talk, right?" Emily clasps her hands over Derek's and rests her head on his broad chest. "I know," she replies softly. "We will, I promise. Just as soon as this case ends."

As they rush to get ready, hurriedly dressing and taking turns at the sink to brush their teeth and splash their faces, Emily is nagged by a feeling of unease. She knows that Derek is right - they need to talk about things. A miscarriage, a break up and a one night stand are all enough, standing alone, to cause serious relationship problems. Combine those things, and most couples would never be able to work through them.

As Emily guides her car onto the highway, the reason for her unease suddenly becomes crystal clear.

Most couples would never be able to work through those things.

What if she and Derek are no different?

_"God, Derek. I cannot ever lose you."_

_"And you never will, Princess."_

Emily smiles, feeling her uncertainty vanish. Despite the grim circumstances, the fact that her Sunday morning has been ruined, and the hellish traffic she is now sitting in - she smiles. Derek has his faults, and Emily certainly has hers. But one thing, if nothing else, can be said about Derek Morgan.

He never breaks a promise.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

The case is not bad.

It is horrific.

Four mutilated bodies of little girls, each one the daughter of a judge or senator. Less than an hour in, nobody remembers that Strauss had rushed them into the case for political reasons.

_"That is how everyone will remember them," Emily had told JJ as they sat in her hotel room, sipping coffee at two am, because who the hell sleeps after seeing an eleven year old girl bound and gutted like a farm animal? _

_"Remember them how?" JJ had wondered, her hands wrapped tightly around her styrofoam coffee cup. "As daughters of politicians," was Emily's obvious answer. She stared into the steam of her own coffee. "Not as Denise, the bubbly redhead who loved horses. Not as Carla, the sweet little girl who wanted to be a doctor. No one will remember who they really were."_

_JJ's hand closed over Emily's, a sad smile tugging at her mouth. "Someone remembers, Emily_._" Emily looked up, her dark eyes questioning. JJ squeezed her hand._ _"You do."_

Nine grueling days after Emily received Hotch's Sunday morning phone call, the team is gathered silently back at the BAU. It is after eight o'clock on a Tuesday night, not that anyone in the room is even aware of the time or date. Sleep deprivation does strange things to a mind.

"Everyone, go home."

Emily looks up, in tandem with the rest of the team. Hotch is standing by Reid's desk, his brief case in hand. "That was not a suggestion," he adds, and there is almost a hint of a smile on his face. "Go home. Get some rest. I'll see you all tomorrow." He glances at his watch. "Nine-thirty sharp."

No one argues.

Emily has just arrived home when her cell phone beeps, eliciting a flash of panic. When she looks at the screen, she sighs in relief, a shadow of a smile flitting across her face when she sees the name: Derek Morgan. _You ok, Princess? Can I come over? Could use a hug._

She types back her reply: _I'm good, handsome. Yeah please, come over._

Deciding she has about ten minutes to spare, Emily quickly showers and slips into a pair of cotton pajamas. When Derek arrives, she is sitting with her feet curled beneath her on her bed, gazing absentmindedly out the window.

"Hey there," Derek smiles, weariness evident in his voice and face as he leans down to softly kiss her lips. "Hey," Emily smiles back, patting the spot beside her on the bed. "You look about as perky as I feel."

Derek chuckles quietly, dropping down beside her. "Yeah. Well, it's been a long few days, huh?" He stretches his legs out on the bed, stifling a yawn. Slipping one arm around Emily's shoulders, he gently pulls her to him.

"More like almost two weeks," Emily replies, resting her head on Derek's solid chest. She feels her eyes drift shut, and for the first time in nine days, she doesn't fight it.


	18. Chapter 16 Closure

**Disclaimer:** No disrespect to CBS or its affiliates, but if I owned these characters, this is what I would do with them.

**Spoilers:** Series overall, no particular episode.

**Rating:** Mild M for adult language and mature themes.

**Chapter Sixteen**

**_"Whoever said closure is a myth has never been in a commited relationship. Love survives by letting go."_ -Unknown**

Despite the fact that they have not slept more than two hours a night in the past nine days, both Emily and Derek are awake, right on schedule, by six am.

Neither one makes any effort to get out of bed. "Good morning," Emily mumbles, slipping her arm around Derek's waist. His arm tightens around her shoulders, pulling her closer. "Morning, Princess." The words are delivered in that thick, sleepy drawl. Emily smiles against his chest, her eyes closing.

Derek stirs slightly.

"Do you want kids?"

Emily's eyes snap open. "I - I'm sorry, what?" Her stammered response is the only coherent thought she can manage. Sitting up slightly, she glances at Derek's face. His eyes are still closed.

"Do I want kids." Emily repeats Derek's question, but as a statement. Lying her head back on his chest, she murmers, "Probably not the best time to ask me. That case..."

Derek lies still, his silence speaking volumes.

He is ready to talk about things.

"Okay," Emily acquiesces, rolling onto her back. She crosses her arms over her waist, and replies carefully. "The truth is, I did want kids. You know, at some point. But there was college, then my career, the undercover work. By the time I stopped to seriously consider it, I was at the BAU with no romantic prospects."

When Derek doesn't respond, Emily props herself up on one elbow to deliver a gaze in his direction. His eyes are open now, focused on the ceiling.

"And you?" She nudges his arm gently, prompting him to look at her. "Do _you_ want kids?"

Derek nods slowly, his face betraying the multitude of emotions he is wrestling with. "I always assumed I would have kids one day," he tells her, sitting up against the headboard of the bed. "But like you said - I got busy. Life sort of took off." He stops and shrugs, as if that answers that.

"You know what I just realized?" Emily laughs softly, her eyes drifting down to settle on the blanket. "Neither one of us actually answered the question."

Derek looks at her, half smiling. "I guess we didn't," he agrees.

Emily bites her lip, twisting the blanket in her hands. "The answer is yes." Her voice is so low that Derek wonders if he has heard her correctly. Her eyes are still downcast, studying the blanket bunched in her hands.

Derek reaches out to tuck a long lock of hair behind her ear. He then gently tugs her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Yes?" He repeats. "You do want to have kids?"

Emily's eyes are a dark swirl of questions and unspoken answers. She replies, her voice breaking. "I don't know if I can."

Derek feels his heart squeeze painfully, and for a moment, he wants to simply take her in his arms and tell her that it doesn't matter. He wants to tell her that he loves her. He wants to make love to her, and put this whole disturbing topic out of their minds.

_We need to talk about this_, he reminds himself firmly.

So instead, he squeezes her hand reassuringly, and poses another question.

"Why would you think that?"

Emily shakes her head, swallowing thickly. "The thing in the warehouse... the - the wooden spike. It didn't puncture my uterus, it was too high. But it messed me up. There is scar tissue."

She averts her gaze then, but does not withdraw her hand. "You still didn't answer the question." She reminds him softly.

"I do want kids, baby. I do," he answers, truthfully.

Emily bites her lip again, closing her eyes. She nods. "I figured you did," she whispers. She forces a smile as she meets his eyes again. "You'd make a great father," she tells him, and he can tell that she is fighting hard against the tears he can hear in her voice.

"You didn't let me finish," he interrupts her, gently. "I do want kids." He takes her face in his hands, reverently runs his thumbs over her cheek bones. "But guess what?"

Emily shakes her head slightly, her eyes silently questioning.

Derek looks straight into Emily's eyes, and answers as honestly and fervently as he ever has in his life. "I want _you_ more."

They come together then, embracing tightly. When they part, Emily takes one of Derek's hands and holds it tightly.

"I think I saw our baby. Who she would have been, anyway." Emily stares down at their hands, wondering briefly why she was telling him this. She can feel Derek's gaze burning into her as he waits for her to explain. Taking a deep breath, she glances up at him nervously. There is no judgment in his eyes, only curiosity.

"She?" He questions gently.

"I had this dream," she says, softly. "Several times. It was when I was... pregnant." _Pregnant_. The word feels unnaturally heavy, like a lead balloon. It should be light, free, full of hope. Instead, it is a disappointing deception, a grim contradiction.

Emily closes her eyes, a bittersweet memory playing back in her mind.

_Emily stares at Garcia, into the concerned eyes of her friend. She decides to offer her a bit of truth. To make herself feel better, maybe._

_"I'm having this nightmare," she begins. "It's a recurring nightmare." _

_Penelope nods, listening intently. _

_"There's a hill," Emily continues. "And there's a little girl on top of the hill. She's like six years old, dark hair. And she's just dancing in the sun. But somehow I know she's waiting for me. So I start to walk up the hill... but the hill gets steeper, and steeper, and by the time I climb to the top..." Emily pauses, swallowing as the eerily real dream flashes through her mind. "... the little girl is gone. And I look everywhere for her. And when I can't find her, I start to panic." _

_Emily meets Garcia's gaze dead on. "I panic because I know what's waiting out there for her. I know what the world can do to a girl who only sees beauty in it." _

The conversation had continued then, shifting to Emily expressing her sincere gratitude to Penelope for always making her smile. That is the sweet part of the memory. The bitter part, of course, is that at the time, Emily had thought the dark haired little girl dancing in the sun was herself. It wasn't until much later, in Paris, that she began to wonder if it had been a vision of who her child might have been.

Now, as she relays all of this information to Derek, she begins to feel foolish.

"I know... it's silly, right?" Emily shakes her head, rolls her eyes. "A premonition? I don't even believe in that. I don't believe in dream analysis. I just... I don't know. Tell me I'm being ridiculous."

Derek shakes his head firmly. "I am not about to do that, Emily. Listen, Princess, I don't necessarily believe in premonitions, either. But a few months ago, I didn't believe in near death experiences. Then I heard Reid, who is without a doubt the most logical person I have ever known, talk about having one. I'm a stubborn jackass, but I can admit when there is a possibility of something I didn't believe in before."

Emily nods, processing what Derek has said. "So you think it's possible that I saw our... our daughter?" Her eyes fill with tears, and in her effort to blink them away, they spill down her cheeks.

Derek reaches down, gently wiping the moisture from her face. "I do believe it is possible. More than that, I believe that if you did, it was a gift. Maybe the reason you couldn't find the little girl is because she was down in the valley picking flowers. Your mind automatically went to the darkest place possible, but maybe it wasn't a nightmare at all. Maybe the little girl was trying to lead you to something beautiful."

Emily stares in wonder at the man sitting before her. She had thought she was incapable of being surprised by him anymore. Clearly, she was very wrong. "Derek," she shakes her head, momentarily speechless. "How did I get so lucky?"

Derek smiles and kisses her knuckles. "I've been asking myself that very question since the first time I got to hold you in my arms."

This time when they embrace, it lasts for several long moments.

Releasing Derek slowly, Emily takes a deep breath, looking him in the eye.

"Can I ask you something?"

Derek nods quickly. "Of course, Emily. Anything."

"Are you angry with me?" Looking down at their hands, she unconsciously tightens her grip on his. "For losing the pregnancy, I mean. Do you resent me for taking that chance from you?"

Derek grabs Emily's other hand. "No, Princess, I am not angry with you." His voice is firm, insistent. "I promise you that."

She looks up at him, her long lashes framing the relief in her eyes. "I am angry with Doyle," Derek admits. "I just am. That won't ever change. He took something so irreplaceable. From both of us."

Emily nods. "I'm angry with him, too." Derek looks surprised. Emily nods, smiling ruefully. "I know I said I understood the impulse behind what he did," she continues. " And I do. But we all have impulses. We control them, because we are adults. You and I are forced to pay an impossible price, because Ian Doyle never learned fucking impulse control."

Derek grins, in spite of himself. "There we go," he says proudly, winking. "There she is. I knew that badass Agent Emily Prentiss was in there somewhere."

Emily grins then, too. "That's badass _Supervisory Special_ _Agent Prentiss_, buddy."

"Yes, ma'am!"

Laughing, Emily swats him playfully, then scoots closer on the bed to wrap her arms around him. "I don't think I've told you yet today that I love you," she murmers against his neck.

Derek places a tender kiss on top of her head. "And I love you, Princess."

Sighing softly, Emily reluctantly breaks their embrace. "You want to grab some breakfast before we have to get ready for work?" Derek stretches, yawning. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea," he agrees. "On one condition."

Emily's eyebrows raise questioningly. "What condition is that?"

Squeezing her hand one last time, Derek replies, "That you let this stuff go. Leave it in the past, where it belongs. We'll figure out the baby thing. But either way it goes, you always have me, I always have you. That is all that matters to me. You?"

Nodding, Emily lovingly runs her knuckles down Derek's jawline. "It's all that matters to me, too."

Derek smiles. "Good," his eyes sparkle mischeviously as he leans back against his pillows. "Now go get me some coffee, woman."

Emily gasps, grabbing the pillow from beneath his head and hurling it at his face. "Ohh, okay, you just forfeited coffee for this or any _other_ morning, pal."

Laughing, Derek jumps up from the bed just in time to escape a second pillow being launched at his face. "Okay, okay!" He places his hands up in mock surrender. "How about _I_ go get coffee for _you_, and massage your feet while you drink it in bed?"

"Hmmm," Emily pretends to consider his offer carefully. Stretching out on top of the blankets, she nods curtly. "I suppose I can live with that. Decaf, please. And make it quick."

Derek turns to walk out of the bedroom, looking over his shoulder at her. "Come on now, baby," he croons. "You should know by now I'm never _quick_."

**Author's notes: I am very sorry it has taken me so horribly, horribly long to update. I hope you all like this chapter. It is dedicated with love to Ashley, one of the most beautiful, strong people I have ever known. I love you.**


	19. Chapter 17 Contentment

**Disclaimer: **Neither Criminal Minds nor the characters portrayed here are my property.

**Rating:** M for strong sexual content and adult language.

**Spoilers:** Not really.

**Chapter Fifteen**

**_"You know you're in love when you don't want to fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams." _-Dr. Seuss  
><strong>

There is nothing more beautiful than reaching that stage in a relationship where you are perfectly comfortable with your lover, and vice versa. Potentially awkward moments are no longer awkward, but good for a laugh. Silence is not uncomfortable. You can shower with the door open. He clips his toenails on the couch, and she leaves her tampons in his medicine cabinet.

These are Emily's general thoughts as she smiles against Derek's mouth. His hands are resting on her hips as she lies beneath him on her couch. It occurs to her, when he automatically repositions his weight after she shifts her hips slightly and squeezes his bicep gently, that they have reached just such a stage.

No words are needed.

Emily lifts her arms when she feels Derek tugging at the hem of her tank top. He removes it easily, and offers no argument when Emily reaches up to help him pull his own shirt over his head and toss it aside. Leaning down again, Derek captures Emily's lips in another leisurely kiss.

They lay like that for several more long moments. Slow, sweet kisses deepen until Emily's face is flushed and hot, and she can feel Derek's heart drumming hard under her hands as she runs them down his rib cage. Tonight, however, there is no hurry. Neither of them is going anywhere: not tonight, and not ever.

This is a fact of which Emily and Derek are both beautifully aware.

Still, when Emily feels Derek's thumbs trail down her sides, his thumbs hooking in her pajama bottoms, she gladly lifts her hips off the couch to assist him in sliding the shorts down her smooth legs.

Emily smiles contentedly as she watches Derek's pupils dilate at the sight of her smooth, bare sex. Pulling her knees up just enough to offer him a better view, she reaches for him again. He kneels between her legs, dropping kisses on the hollow of her neck and down the gentle slope of her breasts.

Vocalizing her appreciation quietly, Emily digs her blunt fingernails into Derek's hips. "Derek..." His name slips off her tongue smoothly - just as smoothly as her hand slips past the confines of his sweat pants and boxer briefs. Taking his length into her hand, she strokes slowly.

Moaning into Emily's mouth, Derek reaches down with one hand to push the offending material away from his hips. Emily pulls her hand away from his manhood long enough to help him. She shivers in anticipation when she sees his large cock spring free, inches from where her ache is building.

She never gets tired of that sight.

Sitting up and pushing on Derek's shoulders until he is lying on the opposite end of the couch, Emily hovers above him. He lifts an eyebrow, smiling up at her. He does not question their change in position, but rather waits, watching as Emily flips her long, dark natural curls over one shoulder.

His breathing quickens.

During the months of their continuous lovemaking, Derek has memorized every detail of Emily's body, discovered all of her sweet spots, and learned each nuance of her movements. Her lips part slightly when she has an orgasm. She whimpers uncontrollably when he kisses behind her ear. When he takes her from behind, she clenches the sheets in her fists without even realizing it.

And when she tosses her hair over one shoulder, it always means -

"_Oh God, Emily_..." Derek groans loudly as he feels Emily's full lips close around his throbbing cock. He feels her smile slightly before she moves her head further down, taking him deep into her mouth. One hand gently caresses his balls, while the other strokes his shaft.

Emily feels a small thrill when she hears Derek groan her name approvingly. When she swirls her tongue around his tip, she tastes his pre-cum, and she hums appreciatively. Why some women don't enjoy this, she will never understand. The sounds she is eliciting from her lover, along with the sheer size and heat of his manhood, is an incredible turn-on.

Hollowing her cheeks, Emily sucks hard, flattening her tongue and using it to stroke Derek hard and fast. She is hoping that he will lose himself in the moment and come inside her mouth, allowing her to feel his hot climax fill her throat. She loves feeling his thighs tremble beneath her, his hands full of her hair as he loudly calls her name.

But not tonight.

Tonight, he tightens his grip on her hair too soon, tugging her up gently yet insistently. She reluctantly pulls away, licking her lips. When Derek sits up and kneels in front of her, she touches his face affectionately. As she lies back on the couch, he moves with her. He kisses her mouth tenderly, then slowly moves down her body, being sure to stop behind her ear. The cries she emits are the purest aphrodisiac.

Derek feels his cock harden painfully, yet continues his exploration down Emily's magnificent body. His tongue teases her nipples before he reverently kisses her stomach, her body jerking at the contact of warm skin against ultra sensitive scar tissue.

When he reaches his goal, Derek inhales deeply, reveling in the heady scent of Emily's arousal. Foggily, through his sex induced haze, he remembers a statement some guy had once made in a bar. Something like, "_Eat your woman out if you have to - you know, if it's the only way you can get her to go down on you_."

God, that guy was an idiot. There is nothing like dipping your tongue into a woman's soft, wet heat and feeling her legs twitch uncontrollably.

Derek uses his tongue in alternate motions, switching from soft and slow to hard and fast, using the pitch of Emily's moans as a guide. There has never been anything that could turn him on as quickly and effectively as her voice.

There is no way he could describe it to anyone if he tried - that deliberate yet effortless way she has of making a point. The slight huskiness that surrounds her words when she is tired, upset or turned on. The way she draws out her syllables just slightly when she is feeling flirtatious.

Try as he might, he cannot adequately describe her voice or the things it does to his mind.

Her soft, sweet pleas are making his head swim - the throaty, sultry tones going straight to his groin.

Using his thumbs to open Emily's pussy lips, Derek blows softly, then softly kisses her clit. "Derek," she says, breathily. "Please..." Her thighs are trembling around him, her cunt glistening with her arousal. "Please," she repeats, her voice holding just a tinge of desperation.

Enough said.

Gently inserting two fingers into her slick entrance, Derek applies direct pressure to Emily's clit, drawing small, quick circles with his tongue. Her cries becoming more insistent, her sighs are now gasps. When he feels her thighs clench and tighten around him, he slows his movements steadily until her legs are slack on the couch.

"Derek," Emily gasps softly, reaching down pull him towards her. He reaches up and takes her hands, sliding up her body until his face hovers just above hers. He kisses her gently, and she smiles against his mouth. "God, Derek," she repeats his name. "I love you so much."

"Emily, I love you so much it hurts," Derek kisses her again, then whispers against her ear. "I want you so fucking badly, gorgeous." Emily moans lustily, unconsciously thrusting her pelvis up toward Derek's. "Yes," she breathes. "God, please."

Emily feels Derek's hard heat slide expertly into her tight, slick walls. "Oh Christ," she whimpers, gripping his shoulders for support. Wrapping her legs around him, she rocks her hips in time with Derek's deep, slow thrusts.

Derek's instinct is to let his eyes slam shut against the intense pleasure rippling through his body. He forces them to remain open, focusing on Emily's beautiful face contorted with ecstasy. He is not sorry. Her eyes are wide open, staring into his as she bites down hard on her lower lip. "Jesus, baby," he groans. "Do you... have any idea... how... fucking beautiful... you are?"

Emily calls out then. It might be his name, or maybe she curses - who can tell when you're that high? Her legs tighten around Derek's hips, and he rides out her orgasm with her as he continues to thrust himself into her dripping walls until his climax hits. His groans mingle with her cries, their voices entwining much as their bodies just have.

When Derek kisses her nose, Emily opens her eyes slightly and slides her arms around his waist.

"Princess," Derek murmers into her hair, kissing the top of her head. "I don't want to keep this a secret anymore."

Emily runs her hand down Derek's face, her eyes now fully open and searching his face, her brows knit questioningly. "What do you mean?"

Derek takes a deep breath. He looks into Emily's eyes, and before he can reconsider, he goes out on a limb one more time.

"I want people to know about us."

**Author's Notes: Wow. I suck as a person, apparently. So, so, so sorry, guys! New relationship + job searching + new semester at school = no effin' time to do much of anything! Things are slowing down a bit now, though, and I PROMISE it will not be so long before I update again! I truly hope you enjoy this new chapter. As always, read and - if you feel so inclined - review. :) 3 XOXO EB**


	20. Author's Notes Pt 3

To all my loyal readers, eager newcomers, and faithful feedback givers: I am deeply sorry that it has taken me so horrendously long to continue this story. If any of you are still interested (and believe me, I understand fully if you are not) I am continuing it now. Excuses are lame, but I would still like to offer an explanation for my unexpected hiatus. The explanation is as follows: **LIFE.** It can kick you in the keester sometimes, and kick it did. Between work and unemployment and work again, wedding planning and moving, self-doubt and family issues, writing somehow took a backseat. _That is something that I vow, here and now, to never let happen again._

A new chapter will be posted within a week, come hell or high water.

**Happy reading, friends.** As always, you are all so valued and, quite frankly, the shit.

_xoxo_  
><em><strong>EB<strong>_


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